


The Lost

by orphan_account



Category: Merlin (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-10-09 23:19:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 48,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10424049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account





	1. Chapter 1

"Well, Merlin," Gwaine said, sitting down next to him, "You look like the bad end of a horse."

"Thanks."

"Seriously," said the knight, reaching over and snagging a boot. He began to polish it as he talked, "I've seen happier looking faces at a funeral."

"Again, thanks," said Merlin, "You're doing wonders for my self-esteem. And give me that boot back."

"No," Gwaine said, holding the shoe out of Merlin's reach, "I'm helping."

"You're a knight," Merlin said, but dropped the subject. In truth, he was more than a little bit thankful for the assistance.

"Now," said Gwaine, "Why the pitiful face?"

"Arthur's making me come on patrol with the lot of you," said Merlin. "I hate patrols. They never end well."

"Sure they do."

"Name one," said Merlin, brandishing his polishing rag at Gwaine's face, "Name just one that went off just fine, without anything going wrong at all."

"Um," said Gwaine, and scratched his head. He tossed the now shiny boot in a pile with other cleaned and polished boots. "All right, you win."

"That's right, I win."

"It's just a good thing I didn't bet any money," said Gwaine. "But you'll see, this'll be the one where everything works out alright. First time for everything, and all that."

Merlin huffed. He rolled his eyes. He knew better, after all. He knew that the best way to ensure one of these patrols went wrong was to say that it wasn't going to go wrong. He told Gwaine as much, and the knight responded by throwing a boot at him, declaring him a terminal pessimist.

"Besides," added Gwaine, "We don't have to leave for another three days."

Merlin shrugged, humming noncommittally. He didn't bother pointing out that they'd only returned from the last patrol two days earlier (It had ended with Lancelot getting a cold and Percival twisting an ankle, that is to say, it hadn't ended well). Uther, having recovered almost completely from the shock of Morgana's betrayal, had once again become obsessed with finding his daughter. This time, however, his motivations were less pure than they had been two years ago. Instead of making sure Morgana was safe, the king now spent almost all of his resources on finding her to get revenge.

"You're looking long faced again," Gwaine said. "Stop. It's depressing."

"Sorry," Merlin muttered.

"How are things without Gaius?" Gwaine said, once they'd been quiet for a few minutes.

"Oh, you know," Merlin said, waving a hand slightly, "Less…Gaiusy, I guess."

"Your way of spinning a phrase continues to astound me," said Gwaine, "Any word on when he'll be returning?"

Merlin shrugged again. "A week or two," he said, "He's figured out what it is, and how to cure it. He just wants to make sure it's gone completely before he heads back."

Gaius had been called away to an outlying village near the border of Camelot that had been having trouble with a plague, and Uther, rather grudgingly, had allowed him to go. That left Merlin on his own for the time being. He had also been pestered nonstop by each of the knights in turn (and Gwen, and the kitchen staff) on if he was eating enough, sleeping enough, and Lancelot was given the task of discouraging him from using magic. It was clear that the old physician had little faith in Merlin left to his own devices.

Merlin couldn't really blame him.

"Well, it looks like we're about done here," said Gwaine, and he helped Merlin gather the pairs of boots into his arms.

"Don't fall," the knight said, waving at him and walking off.

Merlin snorted, and walked through the corridors. When he walked into Arthur's chambers – a bit of magic helped him get the door open without dropping any of the boots – he found them empty and thoroughly trashed, Arthur already having ran off to training for the day.

"Oh, come on," Merlin muttered, looking around. He put the boots in the cupboard and then ran a hand through his hair. He looked around, even though he knew the room was empty, but Merlin felt that he was better off safe than sorry.

Along with his new determination to find Morgana, Uther had begun cracking down even harder on magic, something that Merlin hadn't thought possible. People were being brought for trials nearly every day, though most of them had their names cleared within an hour. The rate of executions had risen, as well. It was enough to make Merlin nervous, enough to keep Gaius lecturing him constantly about not using his magic.

But, still. With a messy prince to look after and a list of chores that made many of the more seasoned castle servants look rather faint, there was only so much self-control that he could have. With a muttered spell he sent all of the clothes flying back into the wardrobes and chests. He gave a pointed look at the bed and flicked his wrist. Instantly, the covers drew themselves up and flattened out. Merlin continued, saying spells and cleaning. In a quarter of the time it would have taken otherwise, Arthur's chambers had been rendered clean.

Merlin surveyed the room, feeling rather pleased with himself, but also a little sad. It would probably be within a matter of minutes of Arthur's return that the place would look as if someone had sacked it again. Merlin turned, running through the list of his remaining duties in his mind, and froze. The door to Arthur's chambers was standing ever so slightly ajar. Merlin frowned. He didn't remember leaving it open. In fact, he was more than certain that he'd closed it behind him. Walking over, he peered out into the corridor. There was no one there, so with a shrug he turned and…

…And everything was pain, agony and burning. He lay on his side, on top of what felt like shattered stones. They dug into him as he lay there, fighting to draw in air. The fear that washed over him was paralyzing – where was he? Had someone attacked Camelot?

Wait, oh, no, Arthur. Where's Arthur? And Gwen, Lancelot, Gwaine, everyone…

Merlin forced his eyes open, rolling over so that he was on his back, staring upwards. He was inside, or at least what used to be inside. There was a hole blasted in the ceiling above him, and through dust and haze he could distantly make out the night sky.

He pushed himself to sitting up, gasping at the pain that ripped through him at the motion. His head pounded, and the world around him spun in slow, lurching, sickening circles. He put his head in his left hand, waiting for it to pass. His right arm hung uselessly at his side, and even thinking about the limb sent lightning bolts of sharp and angry pain knifing through it. Merlin didn't know how long he sat there, quivering, trying to calm himself, but it soon became clear that his dizzy spell wasn't going to be stopping any time soon.

He looked around again, trying to ignore the way that everything around him kept tipping and twirling around. He could hear a distant shouting. The room – it looked like it could have been a castle, once upon a time – was filled with broken stones and ruins, all black and dark gray stone. Not Camelot, then. Camelot was all white granite and light grays.

So, if not Camelot, then where was he?

The room continued to loop around him, and without Merlin having much say in it he found himself laying on the floor once again, curled into a ball, trying desperately not to pass out. He tried to call out, to see if anyone was there, anyone at all, but all that came out was a strangled, croaking " 'lo?" that he could barely hear himself.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to figure out what the hell could have happened that made him hurt so much, feel so weak that he couldn't even sit on his own.

There was a clatter of metal against stone, jolting Merlin out of his slowly growing haze. He opened his eyes to find a silhouette of a man wearing armor, facing in his direction. He couldn't make out any features through the dust that was floating through the room.

There was a high pitched shout, almost like a scream. The man flinched, looking wildly to his right, and then sprang into motion, striding towards Merlin. "No," Merlin said, curling around his hurt arm, "N-no, stay away ."

The man, paying no heed to Merlin's words, hooked his arms under Merlin's armpits and pulled him across the floor. Merlin almost screamed from the pain that roared through him, especially his chest. His arm – most definitely broken, he decided – hit a bit of rock that was sticking out from the floor

When he came to, he was being clutched to someone's – he could only assume the man's – chest, bad arm dangling on the ground, good one pinned to his side, hiding behind a particularly large hunk of fallen ceiling. The man had one arm wrapped about Merlin, keeping him still. Merlin kicked slightly, but his legs weren't too enthusiastic about the idea, only twitching slightly and aching.

Merlin wiggled, desperate to get away, and said in a ragged mutter, "Lemme go!"

The man shushed him, and covered his mouth with a hand. He kept Merlin held down, vice like, an arm still clutching him around his chest. Merlin struggled uselessly, feeling weaker than he could ever remember being.

"Stop fighting me," the owner of the arms whispered into his ear, "Stop it. They'll find us if you don't stop."

Great, Merlin thought. Even if whoever 'they' were wanted to kill him, anything was better than being smothered alone in the dark, wasn't it?

"Merlin, please," the man said, "I'm begging you, stop, you'll only make it worse."

Merlin froze, heart hammering in his ears. This man knew him?

Apparently, having taken Merlin's stillness as a good thing, the man continued, saying, "Yes, that's it, I've got you now, you idiot, it's done, we've got you. You're going to be all right, I swear."

The relief was enough to almost knock Merlin unconscious. As it washed through him, he almost started to cry, and it was intense enough that he felt even more ill than before. Merlin let his head fall back against the shoulder behind him, and immediately the hand pulled away from his mouth.

"Arthur?" he whispered, and his voice sounded wretched and worn to his own ears.

The arm wrapped around his chest tightened ever so slightly, though not enough to hurt, and Arthur shushed him. "Of course it's me," he said. "Who else would it be? Honestly, Merlin."

And Merlin did let himself cry a bit then, even if it was only a tear or two – he hurt, he had no idea what the hell was happening, and his head was spinning. But Arthur was here, and he seemed to be in a better sort of way than Merlin.

"What-t happened?" Merlin asked, "My head…c-can't think straight."

"Not now, later, I promise," Arthur said, still whispering and Merlin didn't need to see his face to know that the prince was frowning. "Are you injured? You're shaking."

"I-I don't…" Merlin answered, and tried to steady himself with a deep breath. It didn't work, and only caused his chest to explode with a sharp and stabbing agony. He whimpered, unable to finish his sentence.

"That's enough of an answer, I think," Arthur said, and despite the situation, Merlin felt the smallest flicker of a smile cross his face, gone as soon as it came. "We should wait a bit, make sure they aren't coming back this way."

Merlin nodded. At this point, he decided to just do whatever Arthur said, as the prince seemed to have a better handle on things than he did. Of course, that wasn't saying all that much. Arthur kept one hand on Merlin's shoulder, but moved so that he was squatting in front of him. He squinted to see through the dark and strangely cloudy air that filled the room.

He just stared at Merlin, looking like he very much wanted to say something. Just as Merlin was debating that maybe the prince wasn't as well off as he'd originally thought, Arthur said, "Can you walk? The others will be waiting for us by now."

Others? He decided to worry about it later, and just answer Arthur for now. Merlin shook his head, "No…I…I-I don't think –"

"I'll have to carry you, then. You always have to make everything about you, don't you, Merlin?" said Arthur, a forced smile on his face. But then he grew serious. "This is probably going to be painful for you."

"Please, just," Merlin said, and he didn't care how pitiful and pleading he sounded. "Just get me out of here."

"Brace yourself," Arthur said. He gently moved Merlin's arm – definitely broken, Merlin said, clenching his teeth – so that it was sitting on Merlin's torso. Merlin couldn't stop the small groan that he gave, and Arthur winced slightly, not looking at Merlin. Then Arthur shifted so that he had one arm around Merlin's back, and the other beneath his knees. "I'll lift on the count of three. Ready?"

Merlin nodded, squeezing his eyes shut and gritting his teeth.

"One, two," Arthur took a deep breath, and said, "Three."

He lifted, and Merlin stifled a cry. His entire body was lit with pain, and as Arthur began to pick his way through the rubble, his head pounded and his chest tightened.

"Hang on," Arthur muttered, and Merlin felt more than heard the words, the way his ears were roaring at him. Arthur continued, "We're almost out, you'll be fine. They won't hurt you anymore, I promise, Merlin, just hang on."

Merlin wanted to demand to know who wasn't going to hurt him anymore, and, on that subject, why they were hurting him in the first place. Instead, as Arthur tripped slightly and almost fell, he let himself get jerked away into unconsciousness, Arthur talking nonsensical, soothing words all of the while.

More time passed, though Merlin couldn't say how much. He drifted, always just on the brink of waking but still somehow…not.

They were on horses, at some point. Merlin couldn't quite work up the energy to open his eyes, but he moaned slightly, the motion of the running horse jarring him uncomfortably. He only realized someone was holding him on when the arm tightened around his stomach slightly, and Arthur said, "It's all right, Merlin." The horse slowed slightly, closer to a walk.

And then there was a breeze against his bare torso, and he was leaning heavily against someone's chest. He could feel their breath ruffling through his hair. Someone was poking and prodding at him, and whoever he was propped up against said, the words rumbling through them, "Holy hell. Did they even feed him once?"

Later, bundled in a blanket, Merlin felt almost too warm. But he didn't want to complain, didn't think he even had the energy too. There were people talking around him, and a hand holding onto his wrist through the blanket, fingers pressed over his pulse. The people were talking in low, hushed tones, and there seemed to be a lot of cursing involved.

When Merlin finally woke, properly this time, it was dark. He was on his side, laying near a fire. He watched the flames for a minute, until someone said, "Merlin?" He twitched his eyes over to where Lancelot was sitting, watching him intently. Lancelot scooted closer, looking at him intently, and again, he said, "Merlin? How're you feeling?"

"Not too good," he answered, resisting the urge to close his eyes again.

"Here," Lancelot said, holding out a piece of bread.

Merlin shook his head, and said, "No." He felt sick at the thought.

"I'm not offering," the knight said, grabbing one of Merlin's arms and forcing the food into it. "It's not that much."

Merlin took a small bite, and swallowed it. Suddenly ravenous, the bit of bread was gone in an instant. Lancelot lifted a waterskin to Merlin's mouth, and Merlin drank it with the same ferocity he'd eaten the bread. Lancelot had to pull it away several times and caution him to drink slower. Finally, Merlin, feeling like his stomach was full to bursting, said, "Arthur?"

"Sleeping. Same as the others," he said, "Except Percival, he's on watch."

"You're not sleeping," Merlin said. Even with the water, his voice refused to grow louder than a ragged, rough whisper.

"I'm on Merlin Watch," said Lancelot, a small grin flitting across his face, gone as soon as it appeared. "You really scared us this time."

"What happened?" Merlin asked.

"You don't remember?"

Merlin shook his head. "I…there's nothing," he said, "Just…nothing. What happened?"

"Later," Lancelot said, "Don't worry about it now."

Right. Because there were so many other things for him to be thinking about. "Lancelot, please," he said.

Lancelot hesitated for a moment, glancing somewhere off to the right. Merlin could only assume that's where the others were. Then, he said, "You were jumped by some outlaws in the woods, after the – anyway, Arthur got a demand for ransom, and we rode out, but they were all gone, and so we've been searching –"

"How long?"

"You need to rest."

"How long?" he repeated, and by the sounds of Lancelot's words, he had been wherever he was for quite some time. "How many days?"

"Days?" Lancelot said, eyebrows drawing together, "Merlin, I...it's been two months. We've been –"

"No," Merlin said, shaking his head. There was something not unlike panic clawing up his throat, scratching at his heart, strangling his lungs. "No, it can't have been that long. Not months. I would remember, I would – I'd –"

God, he couldn't breathe.

"Merlin, calm down," Lancelot said, and then cursed. Distantly, Merlin could hear him yelling for help. Merlin couldn't care less, he was too preoccupied with the fact that what had been mere seconds for him had, apparently, been two months for the rest of the world.

Two months. Two months. He had lost two months.

"No, c-can't have been, must be some…some mistake," Merlin insisted. His vision was fading, bits of black rolling over everything else, "It can't – I'd know, I…"

He broke off, retching at the grass next to his head. All of the water, the little bit of bread, that Lancelot had pushed on him rose back up, until Merlin was just dry heaving, pain jolting through him each time. Someone was rubbing his back, speaking quietly, and they continued to do so until Merlin, shaking, finally stopped. Hands gripped either side of his face.

"Look at me," said Arthur, in his very best I-am-the-future-king-and-thou-shalt-obey-me voice, "Merlin, I am ordering you to look at me."

Merlin did, but he couldn't force his thoughts into any semblance of order. He still couldn't breathe, and every gasp sent stabbing pain through his ribs.

"Now breathe," Arthur said, and the prince grabbed Merlin's uninjured arm and pressed the hand against his own chest, taking deep, deliberate breathes. "Focus, now, Merlin, just breathe with me. In, out…in, out…"

Merlin did, keeping his eyes locked on Arthur. Every few seconds, the words 'two months' would drift into his mind, and he'd feel himself getting pulled away again, but Arthur would just keep talking, until Merlin finally managed to get his breathing in order. Shaking and weak, Merlin finally nodded slightly at Arthur.

"There," Arthur said, "Now why don't you have a bit of a rest while I talk to Lancelot outside, hm?"

And Merlin, little energy he'd grasped gone, did just that.


	2. Chapter 2

"Gwaine, stay with Merlin," Arthur ordered, "Lancelot, over there. We're going to have words and I don't want to wake him."

Gwaine, fingers running over Merlin's scalp in a soothing motion, nodded seriously. He pulled Merlin gently over so that he wasn't laying with his face directly in his sick from moments ago. Merlin didn't stir, save to let out a soft sigh, eyebrows drawing together and body tensing in his sleep. Gwaine went back to rubbing the servant's head quietly, and gradually Merlin began to relax. As Lancelot walked over to where Arthur had pointed, the prince hesitated, unable, once again, to pull his eyes off of Merlin.

Arthur shook himself. He turned to follow Lancelot, towards the edge of the clearing. He glanced back more than once, gripped by the terrible fear that as soon as he turned away, Merlin would vanish once more. But, as he turned to face Lancelot, the fear disappeared, and anger quickly filled the hole it left behind.

"What happened?" Arthur demanded.

"He woke up," Lancelot said, pale in the darkness. "He was…confused. He wanted to know what had happened to him. I don't think he really remembered."

"Look at the state of him," Arthur said, voice a low and angry hiss, "We're lucky he even knows who he is." Arthur pushed back the memory of Merlin weakly trying to get away, of how he hadn't known it was Arthur at first.

"Then," Lancelot continued, "He asked how long he'd been gone. It was when I told him that it had been two months…well. You saw."

"Did it ever cross your mind that telling Merlin upsetting things like that when he's obviously confused might, I don't know, upset and confuse him?"

"Arthur," Lancelot said, "I didn't know that he would react that way. How could I have possibly known?"

Arthur knew the knight was right, but that didn't mean that he had to like it. "Lancelot," he growled, "If you do anything else to –"

"Excuse me if I'm speaking out of turn," Lancelot cut in, "But do you really have any right to be lecturing me on this?"

"You're the one who sent him into a panic attack," Arthur said, not bothering to try and push Lancelot back down into his place. After all, if he'd learnt anything the last two months, it was that listening to his knights was probably a good thing. But, still, when he'd been woken by Lancelot's calls, had looked over to find Gwaine crouched over on the other side of the fire with the two of them, seen the look on Merlin's face…he never wanted to see that again. Ever. And maybe Lancelot wasn't to blame, but right now, he was the next best thing.

"Maybe," said Lancelot, staring fiercely back at Arthur, "But this whole thing isn't my fault, is it, Arthur?"

"What are you implying?"

"You know what I'm implying," Lancelot answered, eyes flashing, "If you hadn't –"

Elyan stepped between them, a hand of each of their chests, pushing them apart. Arthur hadn't even realized how close and in each other's faces they had gotten until the knight stood between them. "This isn't helping anyone," Elyan said, "So stop."

Arthur and Lancelot glared at each other.

"Lancelot, Gwaine was supposed to relieve Percival from watch, but he's preoccupied at the moment, so you go and replace him," said Elyan, "And Arthur – you should sleep. We've a long couple of days ahead of us if we're to get Merlin to Gaius."

At the mention of Merlin, the other two deflated. Lancelot slouched off to go take Percival's place. Arthur trudged back over to the fire, and lay down, Elyan following suit. Across the flames, he could see where Merlin was laying. Gwaine had tucked another cloak around him. All that was visible was the servant's face and matted, dirty hair and a single hand that had latched around Gwaine's ankle. Arthur couldn't look away. Merlin's skin seemed stretched, gaunt. Every inch of it was mottled with some sort of bruise or cut, his bottom lip split in multiple places.

And even though the rest of him was covered and out of sight, Arthur could still imagine, with painstaking clarity, how abused the rest of Merlin was.

He shut his eyes, and tried to force himself to go to sleep. It didn't work, for Lancelot's words – But this whole thing isn't my fault, is it, Arthur? – kept bouncing around his head. His actual answer, unspoken, would respond to it every time it rose in his mind.

No, Arthur thought, it's mine.

When Merlin came back to himself, he was on a horse again. It also seemed that he was being fought over.

Lancelot was saying, "You're going to be in enough trouble as is. Don't put Merlin in the middle of it."

"This isn't open for discussion, Sir Lancelot," Arthur said, his voice just above Merlin's head. Ah, so he was on Arthur's horse, then. "Merlin stays with me."

"We all know you're getting hauled off to the dungeons as soon as we get back, and I think it's safe to say that your father will have few qualms about going through Merlin to get to you." said Gwaine's voice, and Merlin wondered when he'd gotten there. He had no memory of Gwaine being present before. But, of course, his memory wasn't the most trustworthy of sources at the moment. How long had he been out of the loop this time? How long had it been since he'd last woken and...oh.

Oh, hell. Two months.

A small shiver ran through Merlin, and even though he felt a sickening lurch at the thought, it was nowhere near the complete panic that had gripped him last…whenever. He had no idea when it was that he last woke. After all, the last time he'd tried to judge the passage of time, he'd been off by several thousand minutes. Arthur, apparently mistaking his shiver for cold, adjusted whatever sort of cloak, or blanket maybe, that Merlin was wrapped in.

"I'll let someone take him once we're closer," said Arthur.

"Arthur –"

"He stays with me."

There was very little discussion after that.

Funny. He hadn't noticed that the cover was there until it was moved. He shifted slightly, and all of his muscles seemed to roar with a throbbing ache. He buried his face further down beneath the warm fabric nestled around him. Distantly, he realized that his legs had been lashed to the horse, effectively tying him down.

He suddenly felt pent in, trapped. His heart thudded loud in his ears. He tried to move his legs, do something, anything to get away, but he couldn't.

"Wait, stop," Arthur said. Again, Merlin was only aware of the fact they were moving once they'd stopped. "I said stop. Merlin?"

Merlin blinked his eyes open, finding his vision mostly obscured by the cloak around him. He tried to kick his legs, only to have the same sort of sharp soreness ricochet around his body, straight through to his bones. He couldn't move, couldn't get away, couldn't –

"Help me get him down. Careful!" Arthur's voice snapped. Merlin gasped as hands grabbed on to him, pulling at his legs, and then suddenly he was on his side on the ground, once again. "Merlin, calm down. You're off, we've untied you."

For what felt like the millionth time, Merlin's brain only caught up with what was happening once it changed. He realized he was talking, pleading, begging, "Let me go, please, just let me go, whatever you want, just let me go," over and over again. Merlin clenched his jaw and forced the word spew to stop.

There was no one touching him, and Merlin forced his eyes open. Arthur's face filled up most of his vision, and Gwaine was just off to the right, hands twitching towards Merlin as if he had to force himself not to lay a hand on him. Merlin tried to concentrate on the warm ground beneath him, dirt warmed by the sun, with that cloak still wrapped around him. He was freezing, despite all of that, though.

"Merlin?" Arthur said.

Gwaine gave up his futile attempts, and gently placed his hand on Merlin's shoulder. Then, he frowned, "Arthur, he's really warm. I think he may be getting a fever."

"Don't be ridiculous," Arthur retorted, "He's been riding with me the past two days, I'd have noticed."

"You're wearing armor," Elyan's voice pointed out, somewhere out of Merlin's view. "You'd be hard pressed to notice much of anything through that."

"Fevers can crop up quick," Percival's deep voice added, from the same direction that Elyan had been talking from, "Could've just started."

Arthur pressed his palm against Merlin's forehead, and his face grew even more serious than before. Merlin rather fancied that he could see the dark shadows beneath Arthur's eyes get even darker. "We need to get him back to Camelot, quick as possible," Arthur said. Merlin blinked, and wanted to nod in agreement. After all, 'back to Camelot' was good. Merlin figured he could handle that. However, his head was heavy and didn't seem to want to listen to him.

"I'll take him," Gwaine said.

"Once we're closer – "

"Arthur, no," Gwaine said, "I don't know if we can - if he can afford to stop again, and he's already off your horse. Moving Merlin hurts him, and we shouldn't do it more than we absolutely have to. Plus, if he's got a fever, we need to get him to Gaius even sooner than we thought. I'll take him, and we send you and one other back ahead of us. You can get arrested, so that's out of the way, and…give Gaius…prepare…"

Merlin didn't know if Gwaine had stopped talking, or if Merlin had just passed out, but either way, when he next blinked his eyes open, the first thought he had was that his legs weren't lashed to the horse this time. He could see Elyan riding to the right, and he flopped his head around – trying and failing to ignore the wave of dizziness that crashed into him at the motion – to see Lancelot riding to the left.

"Merlin," Lancelot said, directing his horse closer.

"He awake?" Gwaine said, shifting a little behind him, "Like, actually and really, this time?"

"His eyes are open," said Lancelot. "Merlin?"

Merlin tried to say something, but ended up breaking off into a croaking cough that jolted through him, and made his vision dance with black for a bit.

"Here," Elyan said, handing Gwaine a water skin.

"Thanks," said Gwaine, and then Merlin found the water skin pressed against his mouth. Beneath them, the horse shifted slightly. "Here, Merlin, you need to drink."

Merlin did, gagging only once. He let his head fall forward, then, and stared at the horse's mane in front of him. It was easier than trying to focus on the woods that surrounded them.

"I don't know if he's aware," said Lancelot.

Merlin glared, no matter how much that statement may have been true, and said, "Am so."

His voice was still faint and rough, but it didn't feel like he was choking on broken glass when he talked anymore. Gwaine laughed loudly, and the noise grated on Merlin's nerves, making his head pound just a little bit harder. Gwaine stopped, and said, "Beaten bloody, and you still have an attitude. There isn't much that can stop you, is there?"

Wait. Gwaine was here. Elyan was here. So was Lancelot. But…

"Arthur?" Merlin asked.

"He's gone back to get yelled at by Uther," said Gwaine, "Percival went with him. He was the only one big enough to force him to go."

"Yelled at?"

"Our rescuing you was slightly less than sanctioned," said Gwaine, "But don't worry about it. You just worry about you. We can look after your prince for a bit. We'll be back in the city within the hour. You'll want to sleep now, while you can. Gaius is going to poke and prod at you more than you can imagine."

Arthur stood with his hands clasped respectfully behind his back. In front of him, his father was pacing slightly, cracking his knuckles. Arthur just waited for the storm to break. He would take any punishment his father threw at him – he did deserve it. To have disappeared for almost a month after being directly ordered not to...well. Arthur would have to be crazy to not expect any repercussions.

It helped to know that Merlin was, at this very moment, getting closer and closer to Gaius and the help he so desperately needed. It helped to know that, right now, Percival was up in Gaius's tower helping the old man prepare.

It helped, but not very much.

Arthur and Percival had ridden full speed into Camelot. It had taken all of the knights to force him to leave Merlin behind. But the two had barely had time to dismount off of their horses before a brigade of guards was upon them.

"The king requires your presence in the throne room immediately," said one.

"I'll be there as soon as I can," said Arthur, leading his and Percival's horses towards the stable. The large knight was already jogging up the stairs and inside the castle, straight for Gaius's chambers.

"He said you might say that," said the guard, shrugging apologetically, "King Uther said that you were required to come now."

Arthur handed over the reins to a stable boy, and nodded, saying, "Very well."

He allowed the group to walk him into the throne room. Uther was standing, waiting for him. "Father," Arthur had said, bowing. He was ignored. With led him to now, watching as the king paced around and cracked his knuckles, silent and ominous.

Arthur could feel the dread pooling around in his stomach.

"Have you taken complete leave of your senses?" Uther said, stopping in his pacing to glare at Arthur. Ah, Arthur thought, it's going to be the 'you're the only heir to the throne and he's just a servant' speech. Having found his footing, Arthur braced himself, and dug in for an emotional and mental beating.

"No, father."

"Then why, pray tell," said Uther, leaning on the back of his chair, "Do you have this insatiable need to throw your life away for nothing?"

"My manservant is not nothing. He has proven his loyalty to me time and time again, has saved my life more than either of us, I think, care to think about. You yourself have acknowledged that. It is only fair that I returned –"

"You are above fair, Arthur," Uther yelled, and raised his voice for the first time since the conversation started. Inwardly, Arthur let out a sigh of relief. A yelling father was something he was used to , but that quiet, lecturing, calculating father that he had been led to stand before scared Arthur more than he cared to admit. "You are the heir to the throne. But it is not the boy's loyalty that is the issue, here. He is your subject, it's only right that he – "

"He would be dead by now had I not gone after him. You may think that Merlin's life is worthless," Arthur snapped, the anger bubbling up in his chest violently and without warning, "But I don't."

"Do not interrupt me!" Uther said, his voice deadly low again. Arthur snapped his mouth shut and stared stalwartly at the floor. "No life is worthless, Arthur, but in comparison to yours, there are many that are worth less. How many times do I have to try and teach you this lesson? You cannot just go gallivanting about, risking your life for that of a servant."

Arthur didn't respond. He just kept glaring at the stony ground of the throne room. To disagree at this point would only dig an even deeper hole.

"You're to be confined to the dungeons until I say otherwise, and you've had time to think about your priorities," Uther said, sitting down and waving a hand. "Take him."

Arthur let himself be clapped in chains and led away. He wanted to laugh when he realized that Leon was one of the men that his father had selected to bring him there. When Arthur and the other knights had ridden out to find Merlin, Leon had been chosen to stay behind to keep the king from noticing Arthur's absence as long as possible. "Leon?"

"Did you find him, Sire?" the knight asked, glaring daggers at the other man walking with them. The guard became very preoccupied with staring at the tops of his boots and being obvious over not listening.

"Yes."

"And?"

"It isn't good."

"But he lives?" said Leon, and Arthur nodded once, shortly, in confirmation. Leon let out a small breath of air, but it was enough to let Arthur know that he, too, had worried over Merlin. Arthur had to suppress a more than a little manic laugh at the thought – everyone worried over Merlin, it seemed. Everyone save for his father.

"He lives," said Arthur, "If only just. The others are bringing him, and Percival's helping Gaius. But, Leon –"

The door to the dungeons swung open, and Arthur was pushed inside of a cell. As Leon locked the door, he nodded and said, "We'll look out for him, Sire."

"And –"

"I'll keep you up to date on his condition," said the knight, smiling a small grin.

Arthur ran his fingers through his already well-tousled hair, and said, "Thank you, Leon. For everything."

Leon bowed slightly, and said, "Sire," before walking out. The heavy door clanged shut behind him. Arthur felt all of his energy drain out of him in a rush. Deflating in on himself, he sank down onto the hard, wooden bench in the cell. He looked around at the dank stones, the musty hay, and did his damnedest not to think about Merlin struggling to breathe that night. He failed. All Arthur could think about was Merlin, cowering in the wreckage of the castle. Merlin, not recognizing who Arthur was. Merlin, starved and whimpering with pain and confusion and fear, covered with injuries. Merlin, shaking enough to fly apart, damaged and broken.

Arthur buried his face in his hands.

He would not cry.


	3. Chapter 3

Gaius didn't notice Percival open the door and walk in until Guinevere gasped, and fumbled with the vial she was holding, almost dropping it. Gaius turned, and found himself quite unable to talk.

"We found Merlin," said Percival, and it was like all of the air was sucked from the room. "I rode ahead with Arthur so he could get talking to the king over with. They'll be here soon."

"And?" Gaius prompted.

"And," said Percival, "I'm here to help you prepare. He isn't in the best of conditions."

"But he's alive?" Gwen whispered.

"Yes," said the knight, "Though I don't know how."

There wasn't all that much to prepare, not really. Gaius's workroom had stood at the ready since Arthur and the knights had ridden out. Supplies on the table, bed ready for an occupant. As a result, there was very little for Gaius to have Percival and Gwen to do. Finally, just to get them to stop hovering, he sent Gwen running for a bucket of water (not that he particularly needed it), and Percival to wait down in the courtyard. Percival had been gone for only a minute when he was walking back in, holding the door open.

And then Gwaine came walking in, cradling Merlin in his arms. "Where do you want him?" Gwaine asked, stopping just within the door.

Gaius couldn't respond for a moment – for all that he'd been warned, he was still taken aback by the sight of his boy, battered and still, wrapped in blankets.

"Gaius," said Gwaine, "He doesn't look it, but he does get rather heavy after carrying him up here from the courtyard."

"Put him right there," Gaius said, snapping back to himself and pointing towards the patient bed, "Right there will be fine."

Gwaine did as directed while the other knights hovered in the doorway. "Someone go and intercept Guinevere," said Gaius, "I think this will only upset her."

Elyan and Lancelot both turned to go, and hesitated, both waiting for the other to keep moving first. "Oh, for the love of – both of you go," Gwaine snapped from where he was standing next to the bed, Merlin laying on it. So, the both of them did go, walking away down the corridor.

"Has he woken at all?" Gaius asked, pulling the blankets from Merlin, beginning his analysis of the young man's injuries. He made himself not look at Merlin as his clumsy, well-meaning ward, but as a patient. He forced himself to be distant.

"A few times," said Gwaine, "I don't know how…aware he was."

"Help me sit him up," said Gaius. Percival moved in, and both he and Gwaine kept Merlin sitting. It was hardly a two-man task, but Gwaine sent a small, almost-smile at the other knight. "How many times was he coherent?"

"At least twice," said Gwaine, "Maybe more, but we only got him to talk to us those two times."

As Gaius continued his examination, Gwaine filled him in on anything and everything they knew about Merlin's condition. They'd created something of a brace for his arm, and bandaged him up as well as they could on the road. There were lacerations on his back. Burns crisscrossed his arms and legs looked almost like they were patterned after a chain. Bruises were everywhere. Multiple lacerations. Evidence of being whipped. Broken ribs. Definitely concussed. More malnourished than Gaius could ever remember seeing a man in his life. One of Merlin's ankles was swollen, as well, though Gaius suspected a sprain over a break.

"He started a fever earlier today," said Gwaine, "Just before we split up and sent Percival up ahead with Arthur."

"I noticed it," said Gaius, "But nothing seems to be infected. We'll just have to watch it."

He sent Gwaine over to the other side of the room to fetch bandages, and Percival to tend the fire.

"Oh, my boy," Gaius whispered. From the way Gwaine's back stiffened, he knew he was overheard.

And time passed. It took three days, but Gaius did, eventually, fall into something of a routine. He had assumed that every one of his waking hours, and most of his sleeping ones, at that, would be focused on Merlin, on helping Merlin, on taking care of Merlin.

What Gaius hadn't counted on was the small army all clamoring for their chance to care for the hurt warlock. Lancelot, Gwaine, Elyan, Guinevere, and Percival (although the last did with only a raised hand and a quirked eyebrow) had all demanded turns watching Merlin. As soon as Mary, the woman in charge of the kitchens, had heard of Merlin's return she sent a serving boy to loiter outside of Gaius's door, who's only job was to run back and forth from kitchen to tower, fetching things for Merlin to eat. Gaius thanked God that Arthur was locked in the dungeons. On top of all the others he had to deal with, the last thing he needed was a prince with a guilt complex.

So, while it was true that Gaius spent most of his time thinking about Merlin, he actually found himself with more free time on his hands than usual. There was always someone there, someone who was a bit bored as Merlin was, for the most part, out cold, to help out Gaius with tasks that weren't necessarily Merlin related. Gwen and the knights had formed a sort of rotating watch force, one of them with Merlin at all times. So while Gaius did have to treat his ward's wounds daily, he was able to sleep enough and still care for his other patients.

Not that Merlin ever noticed – he spent most of his time completely oblivious and asleep. Gaius took some of the responsibility for that. The first thing that he had done after checking the half-conscious warlock over was to drug him into oblivion. After all, that arm needed to be set, and it wasn't something that he wanted Merlin to be able to look back on later.

Three days turned into five. Merlin slept, and would wake just long enough to gulp down some broth and water, answer maybe a question, and then would fall away into sleep once again.

And, of course, there was Uther.

When Gaius had brought the king his nightly tonic the day before, he had found himself questioned on Merlin's current state. It wasn't long until Gaius realized that Uther suspected that Merlin had been captured in order to get information on Arthur. It was a legitimate concern. When the king started saying things along the lines of "interviewing the servant" to see what he'd told his captors, Gaius had quickly stressed how bad of a condition Merlin was in.

"Go on back to your ward, then, Gaius," Uther had said as he left, "And be sure to let me know when the boy would be up for questioning."

Because he didn't already have enough to worry over. Gaius could only hope to hold the king off until Arthur was released from the dungeons.

"Good morning," said Gwaine, sauntering into the dungeons and over to Arthur. He brushed his eyes over the cell, and Arthur glowered at him. The knight grinned cheekily, and said, "I love what you've done with the place."

"Funny," said Arthur, monotonously.

Gwaine held up the armload of papers that he was carrying up slightly. "I come bearing reports from your father. He doesn't want you to think he's letting you off the hook from your other duties, just because you've been arrested."

"How did you get them?"

"Same we get in here every day," said Gwaine, and rubbed two fingers together, "Paid off the right people."

"That's…concerning," said Arthur, taking the reports. He glanced at the one on the top, and then discarded them carelessly on the wooden bench. "How's Merlin? Lancelot didn't say much yesterday…"

Gwaine nodded knowingly. "Ah, yes," said Gwaine, "We drew straws, and he lost. I'm surprised that he came, I thought he'd just leave you here to wonder. Did he even talk to you?"

"Just to say that Merlin was about the same, and to point out that he still holds me responsible," said Arthur, "But I'd like to know a bit more than that."

"I've just come from seeing Merlin, actually," said Gwaine, "And he's actually improved a bit. You'll be pleased to know that he's rediscovered the wonders of full sentences and ate some before conking out on us again. He sleeps a lot nowadays, our Merlin."

"What does Gaius think?"

Gwaine's forced cheeriness faded slightly. "Gaius seemed amazed that Merlin was still alive," he said, "Although maybe shocked is a better word. His fever's gone down – it never really got all that high. It's still there, but only just a bit. Gaius reckons it's more of a stress thing than an actual infection, which is miraculous all on its own. He says it'll take a while, and some of the cuts and burns might scar, but Merlin should be able to make a full recovery, eventually. Physically, at the very least. Although, the way things are looking, he'll probably be right as rain long before you're unleashed on the world once again. How long are you stuck here, anyway?"

"Until further notice," Arthur said, "What do you mean, 'physically'?"

"He's got no memory of the past two months," said Gwaine, "It's just gone. As far as Merlin's mind is concerned, that time just…didn't happen."

Arthur frowned, his eyebrows drawing together. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, that's why he flipped out when Lancelot mentioned how long he'd been gone. Merlin says that it was like he blinked and was instantly somewhere new. As far as we can tell, his memory stops about three days before you had planned to go on patrol," said Gwaine, "Then it picks up again with you finding him in the castle. But the really, I don't know what the word I want is, strange maybe…the really strange thing is –"

"Wait, go back," Arthur said sharply, standing, "Where does his memory stop, again?"

"The day you told us we were going to have to leave on patrol."

"So," Arthur said, and his voice stopped. He scratched the back of his head, fidgeting from foot to foot. "He, uh, he doesn't remember –"

"Not even a little," said Gwaine, "At least for the moment. I don't really know if that's a good thing or a bad thing, but it is a thing that deserves considering, especially on your part."

Arthur leaned heavily against the bars.

"Anyway, as I was saying," Gwaine said, clearing his throat in the sudden silence, "The really strange thing is even if he doesn't actively remember, he still reacts to things as if he does. Flinches away, doesn't much like being confined to things…I mean, you saw him on the horse after he realized his legs were tied to the saddle."

Yes, Arthur had. Merlin had gone all rigid in front of him, breath coming out in gasps, and then he'd started talking…Arthur pushed the memory back and away, and then looked up at Gwaine. "Why aren't you angry with me?" Arthur asked, "Lancelot –"

"Lancelot will dwell and stew over just about anything, given half the chance to do it," said Gwaine, "I prefer to just keep on moving forward."

"But –"

Gwaine shrugged, cracking his neck from side to side. "I'm a simple man, Arthur. It isn't in me to hold grudges for very long. I was minutes from killing you, before, but things have changed. You made a mistake – more of a catastrophe, really, no point in deluding ourselves – but you then went ahead and took the steps to try and fix it," said Gwaine, "Besides that, look at you. You're clearly beating yourself up enough for the both of us. That isn't to say that I'm not upset with you, but what's important is that we have Merlin back. I'll go back to being angry with you once I'm not so busy worrying over him."

"Fair enough," said Arthur.

"Now," Gwaine said, "I have to go, or people might start to talk. Have fun with your reports."

As the knight walked away, Arthur leaned his forehead against the bars, and called out, "Gwaine, wait."

The knight stopped, turning to look back at Arthur curiously. Arthur motioned for him to come back, glancing briefly at one of the guards standing by the dungeon door. "Well?" he said, when Arthur failed to say anthing.

"Are you," Arthur said, and paused, carefully considering his words. Then he spoke again. "Is anyone going to tell Merlin what happened before he left?"

"You saw how he's been reacting to people talking about the time he's forgotten. He doesn't have the energy to be breaking down every time he wakes up," Gwaine said, his voice low so only Arthur could hear, "So, no. Not for now. I mean, seriously. Can you even imagine how badly he'd react to finding out that we know about the magic?"

Merlin flinched himself awake, but kept his eyes shut. He tried to remember his dream, but the more he tried to hold onto it the quicker it slipped away from him, like holding water in cupped hands. He had the distinct feeling of running. He clenched his jaw, focusing as hard as he could.

Running. There had been trees. And…and bushes. And undergrowth growing around it. He'd almost tripped on it more than once. A forest, then.

"Merlin?"

But why was he running?

"Merlin, are you awake?"

Because there was someone chasing him.

He opened his eyes.

Gwen stood on the other side of the room, wringing her hands nervously and watching him closely. "Merlin," she said, swallowing thickly. "I, um, hello."

"Hello," he said back. He was pleased to find that, while his voice was still rough and quiet, he could actually talk without whispering.

Gwen strayed a couple steps closer, and stopped. Her eyes looked glassy. Merlin hoped that she wasn't going to start crying – he didn't know if he could deal with a crying girl at the moment, even one he cared for as much Guinevere. "Would you, um," she said, "I mean, Gaius said that I should make you eat something if you woke up, so there's some broth. I think, I'm sure I couldn't make you, I just rather think that you should probably –"

"Wow," Merlin said, and he grinned. It felt strangely uncomfortable, to be smiling like that. As if his face had forgotten how.

Gwen, looking very taken aback, said, "Wow?"

"I haven't heard you ramble like that in years," he said. "Also, I'm not going to…to break if you come closer."

It turned out that it didn't matter if he felt up to dealing with crying girls at the moment, because the choice had just been taken from him. Gwen did start to cry then, rushing forward and sitting down on the edge of the bed. Merlin tried to lever himself so he was sitting up a bit more. The act of sitting up, however, was not the best idea that he'd ever had.

He winced, feeling different injuries, half healed and otherwise, pulling at him. His broken arm – strapped down in a sling – groaned in protest at the even smallest suggestion of movement. Gwen, noticing his discomfort, instantly produced another pillow from seemingly nowhere, putting it behind his head so that he was propped up. She continued to cry all the while, wiping at her eyes and apologizing, cheeks red with apparent embarrassment.

She then walked over to where a pot was propped over the fire in the hearth. Her hands were shaking slightly as she ladled some broth into it. "Here," she said, walking back over. She settled the bowl in his lap with a towel beneath it, and handed him the spoon. "Do you think that you can manage it by yourself? I could –"

"I can do it," Merlin said, cutting her off. It had been bad enough when it was Gaius. He didn't think he could live through getting spoon fed by Gwen. And, to his immense relief, he found that he was able to manage about half of the bowl before setting the spoon down.

All the while, Gwen kept a stream of meaningless chatter going. When she noticed that he was done eating, she took

"Is it true that you…" she trailed off.

"Is it true that …?" Merlin prompted. He leaned his back against the pillows. Even though he hurt and could barely keep his eyes open, he felt…content. Although that wasn't quite the right word – maybe safe was closer.

"Never mind," she said, "I just – never mind."

"Gwen," Merlin said, "What is it?"

"Do you really not remember anything?" she asked, eyes twitching down from his face to the floor and back again.

Merlin almost told her about the dream he'd just had, but didn't. Instead, he shrugged with one shoulder and said, "Not a thing."

She nodded slightly. "Okay," she said, and choked back a small sob.

"Gwen?"

"It's just," she paused, "When Arthur and the knights left, and they didn't come back for such a long time…I didn't think that I would see you again."

Merlin didn't have an answer to that. The last time he remembered seeing Gwen was the day before everything turned on its head. So he settled for just patting her hand again and saying, "How long were they gone for?"

Gwen's eyes widened, and she got a distinct air of twitchiness about her. "Oh," she said, "I'm, um…Gaius said not to make you talk about –"

"No one's making me," said Merlin, "I need to know. Please."

"Okay," she said in a small voice, "Um. You'd been gone for just short of a month."

She paused, watching him closely. Merlin, though he could feel his heart begin to pound a bit harder, nodded at her to continue.

"And Arthur took the knights out with him to go and pay the ransom."

"Ransom?" Merlin cut in.

"Some outlaws," she said, "They delivered a ransom demand with your neckerchief and –"

The man reached forward, yanking the red fabric off from around Merlin's neck. "Tell me, boy," he hissed, his breath smelling like rot and decay, "Tell me something about this thing of yours that'll make sure your prince knows you're alive."

Merlin gasped, jerking slightly as the memory hit him like a slap in the face. Gwen watched him with wide eyes, half of the way reaching out towards him, stopping herself. "Merlin?"

"Oh," he said softly. He felt light headed. But, he forced himself to give a small smile at Gwen, and said, "Um, j-just keep going."

"I don't think I should," she said, "You should probably go back to sleep for a bit."

"No," Merlin said, and it came out more forceful than he'd meant it to.

Gwen, all signs of uncertainty evaporating, cleanly stepped into the role of mother hen. She pulled the other pillow out from beneath Merlin's head. She laid him down flat, and said, "Sleep."

And Merlin, though it annoyed him to no end, was unable to disobey her command, and fell asleep.

This time, he wouldn't remember any of his dreams.

When he woke again, Gwen was gone, and Gaius had taken her place. Merlin wondered if he had some sort of alarm system set up, for the warlock barely had time to think, 'Oh, I've woken up' and the physician was leaning over him. "Merlin," he said, "How're you feeling?"

Merlin considered. Anyone else he would have just said 'fine' but this was Gaius, and Gaius would know he was lying. "My back hurts," Merlin said, "And my arm. And my…let's just go with everywhere."

Gaius chuckled slightly. Then, he grew serious. "Guinevere seemed more worried about you than usual. She said you something happened while she was here."

Merlin swallowed thickly. "Um," he said, "She was telling me some of what happened. But I made her, so don't be angry."

Gaius just waited, one eyebrow raised.

"I remembered some things," Merlin said, hating how small his voice sounded. "At least, I think I did. At least one thing."

"What was it?" Gaius asked.

So Merlin told him about the dream with the forest and the running. And he told him about the man with rancid breath who'd taken his neckerchief. When he finished, Merlin stared at his hands and struggled not to break down and sob.

"Merlin," said Gaius, noticing. "This is a good thing. You've remembered something. It's good."

Merlin just nodded, because Gaius was right. He had remembered something. Even though that something was less than a minute, and a feeling off of a half forgotten dream. He supposed he should be happy. He supposed he should be relieved. Instead, it just made him want to pull the blanket up and over his head and cry until he fell asleep. Before, he had, in the back of his mind, so deeply down that he hadn't even realized it, been concocting some sort of idea that it was everyone else who had been tricked. He'd managed to start coming up with the notion that, maybe, it hadn't actually been two months. That it was everyone else who was wrong and mistaken.

But, here was the proof, staring him right in the face. He had remembered something – it was real. Damn it, now it was real.


	4. Chapter 4

In the end, Arthur was stuck down in his dungeon cell for nine days. Well. Nine days plus one night. It was the morning of the tenth day that his father came walking in, flanked by Leon and one other knight. "Arthur," he said.

"Hello, father," said Arthur, standing, watching the king closely.

"Well?" the king said.

"I've done a lot of thinking," Arthur said, "Especially over my priorities, as was your wish. You're right, of course. I can't just go risking my life over just a servant. I'm sorry that I disappointed you. It won't happen again."

Uther looked pleased with his answer. Arthur couldn't help but feel a sort of squirming guilt – he had chosen his words very carefully, after all. It wasn't that he lied, not exactly. He couldn't, and wouldn't, risk himself over just anyone – but Merlin was hardly just anyone, and certainly far from 'just a servant'. Arthur was done lying to himself over that. And he was sorry that he'd disappointed his father, but if that meant keeping his idiot manservant alive, then so be it. As for the final point, Arthur intended on doing everything within his power to not let anything even close to this happen again.

So it was that he spent some time talking with his father, and then went up through the castle to his chambers. They'd been kept clean and dusted during his absence. There was also a bath waiting for him, along with a plate of food. Clean clothes were laid out on his bed. Whichever servant had done it, though, was nowhere to be seen. Arthur couldn't help but be glad.

Once he was clean, and had eaten a bit, Arthur stared out of his window for a few moments. Then, hardly paying attention to where he was going, swept from his chambers and out into the hall.

It was only when he found himself face-to-face with the door that led into Gaius's chambers that he realized his destination. He paused, his hand lifted up and ready to knock, but something stopped him. He didn't know how long he stood there, staring at the wood of Gaius's door, arm raised, so close to walking in. He thought about what was waiting on the other side. It was early, but surely Gaius would be up. But would Merlin? Maybe he was asleep. Arthur wouldn't want to wake him.

He dropped his hand. He stepped backwards. He stared at the door for a moment longer. He turned on his heel, and walked back the way that he had come. He'd come back later, at a more reasonable time. At least, that's what he told himself. Besides, he had duties he had to attend to. No doubt Merlin would understand.

As Merlin began to improve, he began to start asking questions. Lancelot couldn't say that he was overly pleased with the development. He was happy that his friend was getting better, of course, but as he climbed back to health, Merlin also wanted to know more. And, unfortunately, today all of his questions seemed to be centering on Arthur.

"Has he been let out of the dungeons yet?" Merlin said.

Lancelot considering playing dumb, and saying that he didn't know. Instead, he said, "Yesterday morning, actually."

"Oh," said Merlin, drumming his fingers against the blanket. It was a habit he'd developed, whenever he started to get nervous about something, an erratic tapping of his fingers on whatever surface was closest. It was just one of a hundred new things that Merlin did now, little things, anxious habits that hadn't been there before. "Has he, um, has he been by?"

Lancelot bit back the immediate, honest answer that jumped to the tip of his tongue, that one little word that would probably hurt Merlin as much as his physical wounds. Merlin was looking so guarded, face kept blank. But Merlin had never been overly good at keeping his emotions hidden, so Lancelot knew just how much the warlock had invested in the question. He could see the hope peeking out underneath his careful mask. So, instead of telling Merlin the truth, he came up with a much more comfortable lie. "Last night," he said instead, hating himself for deceiving Merlin, even if it was for his own good, "But you'd fallen asleep already."

Merlin seemed to accept the answer, a tense line in his shoulders relaxing away. It made Lancelot sigh inwardly with relief while, at the same time, guilt swirled around in his stomach. He suddenly realized that Merlin was watching him closely, head tilted to the side ever so slightly.

"Why are you so angry with Arthur?" Merlin asked.

"I'm not angry with Arthur."

"Right," said Merlin, and rolled his eyes, "That's why you start clenching your jaw and getting all tense every time someone brings him up."

"He's done some things," said Lancelot, standing. His shift of sitting with Merlin was just about over. "Some things that I can't let pass just yet."

"Like what?" Merlin pressed.

Lancelot looked down at him. Merlin was getting better, true, bruises fading to a sickly yellow. He was still too thin, but Gaius had allowed him back to eating solid food. They'd also started having him take little strolls around the room, helping him get the strength back in his legs. Still, though. Still. Merlin still seemed so…breakable.

"I think," said the knight, "That we should check with Gaius, first."

Merlin's face became the very picture of annoyance. "This has nothing to do with Gaius," he said, "I want to know. You people keep keeping things from me."

"I promise that I'll tell you, Merlin," said Lancelot, "Just as soon as Gaius says that it's all right."

There was a knock at the door, and Gwaine walked in. Lancelot, before Merlin could have any time to bring it up again, walked out of the room. Gwaine would be able to deter him from the topic, of that Lancelot had no doubt. Gwaine had proved to have something of a knack at distracting Merlin, a fact that none of them were very surprised over.

Lancelot wandered a bit aimlessly for a while, before eventually finding himself in the armory. Percival was there, sword out, and sharpening the edge.

"How's Merlin?" Percival asked as Lancelot sat down next to him.

"Improving," said Lancelot, pulling out his sword. He began sharpening the blade alongside the hulking knight. "He's starting to ask questions."

"You're concerned."

"Very," said Lancelot, frowning. "He's been wanting to know about Arthur."

"What did you say?"

Lancelot told him. They sat quietly for a few moments, and the only sound was stone against steel as they both looked to their weapons.

Percival broke the silence, and Lancelot was surprised in a vague, distant sort of way. "I know you're angry, Lancelot. But don't you think that Arthur deserves some kind of break?"

"I'll forgive Arthur when Merlin does," said Lancelot, "And not a day sooner."

"Merlin doesn't even remember –"

"No, but I do," said Lancelot, eyes flashing. "You didn't see Merlin's face, just before he left, Percival. I did. Everyone's looking at this like Arthur's getting some sort of second chance, a clean slate. But he isn't, not really. It still happened. All of this - it is Merlin getting the bad end of things again, like always. Just because Merlin doesn't know about it doesn't mean that it didn't happen. So once Merlin's decided that Arthur's fit for forgiving, I'll let it go."

He stood, sheathing his sword and walking out.

"C'mon, Merlin," Gwaine said. He sat at the table, playing a single person card game. "Be honest. You were the one with a crush on Gwen."

"No, I swear," he said, "She liked me. I didn't even really notice it until she kissed me –"

"She kissed you?" said Gwaine, laughing, "Does Arthur know?"

"Not exactly," said Merlin, "And I'd really rather if it stayed that way."

"Worried that he'll be jealous?"

"Not so much that," said Merlin, rolling his eyes, "It's just that he throws things at me enough as is. I don't need him to…to have…oh."

"Merlin?" Gwaine said, turning to look at him, concerned.

"No, I'm all right," he said, shaking his head slightly as if to clear it, "I just thought that I –"

He cut off, going completely rigid and still. His eyes were locked on the wall and completely vacant, mouth hanging slightly open. Gwaine was up and next to him in an instant. He laid a hand on Merlin's back, and said, "Merlin?"

He flinched away from Gwaine's touch, and seemed to come back to himself. "I-I, um –"

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Merlin said, spitting the words out like they were choking him and slamming his eyes shut. "I'm fine, it's fine, just a memory, it's all fine."

"Merlin," said Gwaine, "What do you need me to –"

"I need you to leave me alone. I need you to go back to playing cards. I need you to talk about stupid tavern stories like you always do and pretend everything's fine," Merlin said, and when the knight hesitated, Merlin gasped, "Gwaine, please."

It was the please that did him in. The word sounded like a breaking heart. So Gwaine strode back to the table, sat, and began laying out the cards again, one after another. He prattled on about Lisbeth the barmaid and her flirtatious eyes, the way that she would wink at Gwaine before slipping him free drinks that the barkeep knew nothing about. He talked about how, this one time, he'd walked into a tavern somewhere north of Mercia to find a man juggling goslings – honest to God, baby geese were flying through the air, and no one save for Gwaine seemed to find anything strange about it. And had he ever told Merlin about the time that he had to hide in a rubbish barrel for six hours, pantsless, in the winter? No? Oh, Merlin, you're going to love this one…

Over to the right, Merlin sat, his left elbow on his knee, palm pressed against his forehead. Gwaine could see him shaking from this side of the room. As he rambled through the different drunken escapades he'd managed to live through, Gwaine listened as Merlin gasped for air, eyes clenched shut to try and hold back the world.

Gwaine didn't know how long he rambled for, but eventually Merlin's tremors began to fade. His breathing evened out. Still, though, Gwaine continued to talk and talk. He continued to lay the cards down on the table. Eventually Merlin came stumbling over, and sat down across from him.

"Are you sure you should be sitting up?" asked Gwaine.

"No."

"Maybe you should lay back down."

"I don't want to," said Merlin, staring down at the tabletop.

"I could threaten to sit on you if you don't go back to the bed."

"You could, but sitting on me would probably hurt me, so it would be rather counterproductive."

"Yes," said Gwaine, crossing his arms, "Yes, it would. And Gaius would get cross with me."

Merlin snorted slightly, and silently watched as Gwaine continued his game.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Gwaine asked, glancing up only briefly.

"No," said Merlin, and he began to tap out an irregular rhythm on the wood of the table.

"All right, then."

"Gwaine," Merlin said, "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For not making me tell you about…about what just happened," Merlin said, "You're the only one who hasn't treated me like I'm going to snap and go crazy at any moment. Even Gaius does, a little bit. With them, it's always, 'Have you remembered anything new, Merlin?' and 'Couldn't you try just a bit harder, Merlin?' or 'Don't think on it, we'll tell you later, Merlin'. I don't know how much more of it I can take."

"Merlin," said the knight, abandoning all pretenses of his card game, "I don't treat you like you're going to go crazy because you went crazy a long time ago, as far as I'm concerned. Long before I even met you. Your current insanity is just a different brand than what you usually subscribe to. As to you remembering things, I can't help but wonder if it's better if you don't."

Merlin frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, someone's tried to redecorate your face, along with the rest of you," said Gwaine, poking his shoulder gently, "There's probably a reason you're not remembering it all, and only the bits and pieces. Minds are powerful, guarded things. Yours is probably just trying to protect you. And if it's gone this far out of the way to do that, I'm thinking that we shouldn't try and tamper with it. You'll remember when you remember."

"What if I don't?" Merlin whispered. They both pretended not to notice the way his voice quavered ever so slightly. "What if all I ever remember is what I have now?"

Gwaine did as well, shrugging slightly and saying, "Then you don't, and we deal with it if the time comes."

They stayed sitting there for a while. Eventually, Gwaine coaxed Merlin back into the bed. Though it nearly killed him, he didn't ask about what Merlin had remembered. He couldn't, not now. Not after what Merlin had just said to him. Merlin drifted off to sleep around an hour later.

When Gaius came back, Gwaine looked at him seriously. "We need to talk about something," the knight said, "Could we step outside? I don't want to disturb Merlin's beauty rest."

"What's going on?" Arthur said, walking in. Percival, Elyan, Gwen, and Lancelot were all sitting in the room, all looking varying degrees of confused. Arthur had been told by a passing servant boy that his presence was required immediately.

"Excellent, we're all here," Gwaine said then, striding confidently in, Leon following him. They all looked up at the two knights.

"What's this about?" Elyan said.

"It's about what everything's about now," said Gwaine, sitting down backwards on a chair, arms crossed idly over the back. "Merlin."

"What about him?"

"Well, it's more about you all and Merlin. Stop treating him like he's made of glass," said Gwaine, giving pointed looks at all of them, one at a time, "He's caught on, and it's stressing him out. And stop pestering him about not remembering. I think he feels like he's letting you lot down."

"Where would he get that idea?" Arthur said.

Gwaine jabbed a finger at the prince, and said, "You don't get to talk here, you're the worst of the lot. I said I wasn't angry with you over what you've done, and I stand by that. However, you're somewhat pressing me with what you're doing. Tell me, Arthur, since you've been let out of the dungeon, how many times have you gone to see him?"

Arthur's mouth shut with an audible click, and he looked down at his boots.

"Now," said Gwaine, "I've already spoken to Gaius over this, and he agrees with me. We've come to an impasse. We either need to tell Merlin all that we know about his lost time, or we need to not tell him anything. None of this little filtered bits that we have going on at the moment. It's only making things worse. We have these two choices, and that's it. We tell Merlin everything and hope it doesn't hurt him too much, or we tell him nothing, and let him remember on his own time."

"How do we decide?"

"A vote," said Gwaine, "I've already decided what I think, and Gaius has opted out of this. He thinks both ways have just as many advantages and disadvantages. I've brought Leon as he's fairly impartial, in case of a tie. So, show of hands. Who wants to just tell him what we know?"

Lancelot and Elyan raised their hands. Gwen, looking like she wanted to cry, just stared down at her clasped hands in her lap. Arthur looked off to the side, and wouldn't really meet anyone's eyes. Gwaine also raised his hand. As it stood, it was three-to-three.

"Percival," Lancelot said, "Come on."

Percival shook his head, and said, "No. We don't know what he went through, but we've seen the results. Some things are better left forgotten."

"Looks like a tie, then," said Gwaine, lowering his hand. Lancelot and Elyan did the same. They all looked to Leon. "Well?" asked Gwaine.

"I'm not saying he should never be told," said the knight, "But for now…let Merlin get his strength back, first."

"Which side is that voting for?" said Elyan.

"Don't tell him," said Leon. "I think it will do more harm than good."

"This isn't right," said Lancelot, standing abruptly, "Haven't we messed up Merlin's life enough as it is? He deserves to know. Gwen, surely you will see reason."

"Lancelot, you didn't see him when I told him about the ransom," whispered Gwen, not looking up from her hands, "If he has to go through that every time that we tell him something about what's happened – I won't be part of it."

Lancelot stormed from the room. Percival, with a sigh, stood and went after him. An uncomfortable silence covered the group. "It's decided, then," said Gwaine, "Off with you all. And remember – no more making Merlin sad. If you do, you'll have answer to me."

They all stood, and began to file out of the room. Soon, it was just Arthur and Gwaine. The prince stood, and began to leave.

"Arthur," said Gwaine, giving him a bright smile and clapping him on the shoulder, "Do not think for a minute that this lets you off the hook. If you don't go and talk to Merlin by sundown tomorrow, I might just break your nose. Have a good evening."

When Gaius walked into his chambers, it was to find Merlin sitting at the table, glaring at a candle, brow creased in concentration.

"Bryne," Merlin said, squinting slightly. Nothing happened. The wick of the candle remained unlit. He furrowed his eyebrows, and said again, but this time he was a bit more forceful, "Bryne."

Gaius hung back, watching closely. Merlin, leaned forward, pointing at the candle with a finger. He said the spell again. Once more. A third time. Then, moving so his nose was only a few centimeters from the candle, he snapped, "Byrne, you stupid candle, byrne!"

Deciding he had been lurking long enough, Gaius walked forward, saying, "Merlin?" Merlin jumped slightly in surprise, almost knocking the candle over and off of the table. He looked up at his guardian, something like guilt playing across his features. Gaius just raised an eyebrow, and even though he knew exactly what Merlin had been up to, said, "What were you doing?"

Merlin sent a slightly panicked look down at the candle, and said, "Um. Not magic?"

Gaius gave an exasperated sigh. "You shouldn't even be thinking about magic," he said, "You're not anywhere near strong enough."

Merlin's eyes welled up, and he bit back a sob. To say that Gaius was alarmed was a bit of an understatement. He was across the room in an instant, and put an arm around Merlin's shoulders. "My boy, what is it?"

"I can't do it, Gaius," he said, sniffling, "I-I've tried but I can't even light a candle."

"Merlin, consider your current condition," said Gaius, keeping one hand on Merlin's shoulder, "I think that your magic is otherwise occupied, at the moment."

Merlin, wiping at his eyes, frowned and said, "How do you mean?"

"I'll show you. Give me your arm," said Gaius. He then began unwrapping the bandages that covered the burn marks. They'd faded to slightly pink scars. Gaius was beginning to suspect that even those scars wouldn't be permanent. "Do you see these?"

Merlin looked down, and nodded.

"Don't you see anything strange about them?"

"There's the fact that they exist and I don't know where they've come from," Merlin said, but he squinted slightly, thinking. "I – they've healed rather quickly, I guess, but I've always been a fast healer."

"'Rather quickly'? Merlin, when they first brought you back, I would've said it would've taken at least two months for these burns to be at this stage in healing," said Gaius, "As for your being a fast healer, just why do you think that is?"

"Because I fall down a lot and would be dead by now otherwise?" Merlin asked, monotonously. "Gaius, this has nothing to do with my magic. Or my lack thereof."

"On the contrary, Merlin, it has everything to do with it," said Gaius, and rewound the bandage around his ward's arm. Healing though the injuries were, they physician didn't want to take any chances with infection setting in. Better safe than sorry, after all. "I don't think you realize just how lucky you are to be alive. Your magic, I believe, has turned inwards and has been healing you, keeping you going. Give it time, my boy. It'll come back."

Merlin was quiet, and Gaius could almost hear his thoughts whirling around. "Could that be why I don't remember?" he eventually asked, staring at a point somewhere beyond Gaius's head. "Because of how my magic's behaving."

"Possibly, though I doubt it," said Gaius, "But it is late, Merlin. You should rest."

"I'm sick of people telling me to rest," Merlin muttered, "Can I at least go up to my bed instead of staying down in this one?"

"I think that we can arrange that," said Gaius, smiling slightly. But, more seriously, he said, "Merlin, why this sudden interest in your magic?"

"I've been wondering why I didn't use it to get away," said Merlin, "My magic, I mean. I-I remembered something, when Gwaine was here. I don't know where I was, or who was there with me, but I wanted out, but I couldn't focus enough for the magic to do any good, and all it did was get a knife tossed at my head. And then I realized that I haven't even tried to use it since being brought back here. And now I can't."

"You will," said Gaius, "Again - please, just give it time."

In the forest, a cloaked figure walked silently through the woods. She was alone, but didn't even glance around her to check her surroundings for danger. Instead, she just continued forward, confident and head held high. Coming to a clearing, she stopped. Before her, the great white castle of Camelot reared up and above the trees.

"Iewan weg æt mec," she said, and her eyes flared gold from beneath her hood. A trail, springing from her feet, glowing a dull and pulsing blue, wound and snaked up towards the castle. She looked up at one of the towers, and soon enough she could see the same, thudding light coming from the window, visible only to her eyes. She smiled, a chilling thing.

"Found you," she said, and continued on her way towards the city.


	5. Chapter 5

She entered the city walls just after sunrise. She'd cast a spell that made people's attention slide off of her, around her. It pushed the unwanted gazes of the guards from her face, and as such she was able to walk straight through the front gate, hood drawn, cloak billowing about her feet. The blue trail led straight to the castle, but she wasn't surprised. In fact, she had expected as much.

So it was that she came to walk straight through the main doors. Once she was there, however, she kept to the shadows and alcoves, moving through lesser used corridors. Her spell was clever, and would no doubt keep her protected, but it wasn't infallible. Chances were things that only fools took. She was no fool. She walked up staircases and through corridors. Just as she was about to reach the physician's chambers, Prince Arthur came walking quickly past and through the door. She ducked into a shadowed corner as the king, flanked by guards, followed him shortly after. She waited, then, though it killed her.

Patience, she had learned through life, patience would bring greater rewards than rash decisions.

She wanted Uther dead, yes. Arthur as well. But their time would come, and the waiting would only make her victory all the better. Today, for now, all she wanted was the servant. Merlin.

Merlin had taken it upon himself as a sort of personal mission to provoke Percival into saying more than a single sentence at a time. After all, it wasn't like he had much better to do, save for lay in bed and angst at the ceiling about what his life had become. Wake. Eat. Be pitied. Get pestered over if he'd remembered anything. Get cross. Sometimes actually remember something and spend the next few hours shaky and trying not to get sick everywhere. Get cross again. Worry over his magic. Sleep. Repeat.

And, as much as Merlin enjoyed the seemingly endless cycle, bothering Percival proved to be much more fun.

"So," he said, propped up at the table. His food was sitting next to him, and Merlin would pick at it from time to time. "How are things?"

"Fine," said Percival as he wrote on a piece of paper. "You?"

Merlin grunted, and Percival snorted slightly in laughter. It was quiet again. Merlin fidgeted, drumming his fingers on the tabletop. He didn't like the quiet. It grated on his nerves more than any noise ever had. "What are you doing?"

"Writing a report."

"About?"

"The last patrol we went on."

"When was that?"

"Three days ago," he said, "Gwen stayed with you."

"Ah, right," said Merlin, and in his mental tally he counted it as two sentences. "Um..."

The door opened, and Arthur strode in, effectively cutting off the, for lack of a better word, conversation. Merlin sat up straighter, blinking. It was the first time that he'd seen Arthur since the incident with the horse and his legs being tied. Merlin found himself feeling somewhat nervous at the sight of the prince, muscles tensing as if readying to flee. But why would he want to run away from Arthur?

"Percival, it's time for you to leave," said Arthur. "Please go and find Gaius and have him come here as soon as possible."

The large knight, hesitating slightly, looking between Merlin and Arthur, stood and walked out.

"Arthur," said Merlin, smiling slightly, "I was starting to think that you'd forgotten about m –"

"Stand up," he said, pulling Merlin to his feet. He poked at his slumped shoulders. "Keep your back as straight as you can as long as you can. I know it will be uncomfortable, but you don't want to seem unconfident or anything. Answer his questions as well as you can, but if you don't want to or can't or need help, just mention that you're feeling lightheaded, and I'll intervene. And, for the love of God, think before you speak."

Merlin frowned. "What are you –"

"I'm sorry, Merlin, I tried to talk him out of it. I really did. All we can do now is get through it," Arthur said, and then turned as the door opened once again and Uther came marching in, four guards stopping to stand just outside the door. Arthur shifted around so that he was standing behind his father, watching Merlin closely.

Thrown completely, Merlin gaped for a moment, before bowing slightly before the king. He twitched his eyes over to Arthur, who nodded at him, and then back towards the floor at Uther's feet. Uther paced side to side slightly, and said, "I'm told by Gaius that the injuries you received were quite extensive."

"Yes, Sire," said Merlin, fidgeting a little. He licked his lips nervously, wondering where this was going.

"Hm. You're healing remarkably fast," said Uther. "Some would say suspiciously so."

Arthur's face twitched slightly. Merlin, preoccupied though he was, couldn't help but notice that. "I've always been a fast healer, your Majesty," he muttered.

"Gaius mentioned it," said Uther, "Still. I'm also told you claim to have no memory of your…captivity."

Claim? Merlin felt a hot flash of anger shoot through his chest at the word, but he swallowed it down. "I have very little recollection of it, Sire."

"Very little?" said Uther, "I was told by Arthur you had none."

"I've been remembering, recently," said Merlin. He wondered if he was supposed to be meeting the king's eyes or not. "But just snatches of things."

"Snatches?"

"Yes, Sire," said Merlin. He was beginning to worry that this was going to be a conversation of him saying something just for Uther to repeat a handful of words with a question mark tacked on. "Just a handful of things, each only a short while long. A few minutes, at the most."

"I see," said Uther. "So, by your words, you don't know who it was, specifically, that captured you."

"No, Sire," said Merlin, "Just that one of them had bad breath. And another liked tossing knives."

"How very convenient," said Uther, "So you wouldn't be able to say what you were tortured over."

"No, Sire."

"Or if you betrayed my son and my kingdom."

"Father," said Arthur, "Really."

Merlin's ears were buzzing slightly. His throat was strangely dry. "I don't remember, Sire," he said, voice low and cracking, "However, I –"

"You don't sound overly confident in your answer," said Uther, eyes narrowing.

"Sire, I am loyal to Prince Arthur," said Merlin, "I would never do anything to hurt him, or Camelot." He could feel himself swaying slightly on his feet. At the rate he was going, he wouldn't need to cue Arthur to step in. He'd just pass out. It would pass the message along clearly.

"Father, I think it's safe to say that this is the longest he's been standing up since coming back," said Arthur, noting Merlin's quickly declining condition. Merlin bit back asking how Arthur would know that, seeing as this was the first time that Arthur had come to see him. "Can't we at least allow him to sit?"

"He will stand in the presence of his king," said Uther, eyes flashing slightly.

"He's about to tip over," Arthur retorted, "At least let him have some water."

"Here," she said, holding the cup forward, "Have some water."

He stared at her, mind shuddering to a halt. She kept the cup just under his nose. Before now, Merlin had never noticed the scent of water. But he could, now, and he wanted it more than anything he'd ever wanted before. But he couldn't, and she knew he wouldn't. The chains, locking his magic beneath his skin, scorching and icy, clinked as he shifted slightly.

"It may be your last chance for a while. I could drink it first, if that would put you at ease," she said, and then threw the water in his face, turned on her heel, and marched out, dark hair wafting behind her.

"Morgana," Merlin whispered.

"What did you just say?" Uther said, his voice low, terrifying. Merlin crashed back into the present, and remembered who, exactly, was there with him. And how that saying particular names in front of particular, somewhat unstable kings wasn't a particularly good idea. Arthur looked as stricken as Merlin felt.

"I-I," Merlin stuttered. He flicked his eyes over to Arthur. There was something he was supposed to say if he got out of his depth in this, something so Arthur would know to help him, but Merlin couldn't remember what it was for the life of him. His mind was buzzing with chains that were burning and freezing and eyes that did the same. "I –"

"I think," said Arthur, stepping forward, "That this is enough for now."

He was ignored. "What about her?" Uther said. "You know where she is?"

"I, n-no, I d-don't –"

"She was the one who detained you?"

"Maybe, but –"

"Father," Arthur said, "He doesn't know. I –"

"Do not make me order you outside, Arthur," Uther snapped. Merlin swayed, dizzy and lightheaded as Uther's eyes landed back on him. "What about her? Why did you just say her name?"

"Sh-she was there," Merlin whispered, "But –"

"So you lied," Uther said, "You lied when you told me you had no memory of who captured you."

"N-no," Merlin choked out. He could taste the fear, thick and irrational, on the back of his tongue. He felt like he was staggering on a precipice, a hundred different moments pressing forward, threatening to send him flying away.

"Yes, you did," Uther bellowed. Merlin jumped.

Arthur laid a hand on Uther's arm. "Stop," he said.

Uther, not pulling his eyes from Merlin, said, "Leave this room, Arthur."

Merlin shuddered, his blood turning cold in his veins. He stared at Arthur, shaking his head slightly. Clearing his throat, Arthur said, "No."

Now Uther did turn to face his son. As soon as the king's gaze left him, Merlin's barely there composure cracked, breathing turned to panting as he doubled over ever so slightly. His blood was pounding through his ears, and he shook his head to try and clear his thoughts. Uther yelled something, and Arthur responded, voice measured and surprisingly calm. Merlin missed the words, letting his eyes flutter shut. His heartbeat seemed deafening.

There was a hand on his shoulder, pushing him down onto a chair. As soon as he sat, he could feel himself calm a bit, and he opened his eyes, a cold sweat drenching his slightly shaking body.

"He will stand," said Uther, and his eyes flicked to Merlin. "You will stand in the presence of your betters."

"Father, he can't," said Arthur, hand heavy and reassuring on Merlin's shoulder, keeping him from standing even as Merlin tensed to try, "Will you just look at him? He doesn't know anything about where she is or what she's doing. It's too soon for this, I told you that it would be."

"He has consorted with a sorceress," Uther hissed, and Arthur's hand tightened on Merlin's shoulder ever so slightly. "With her. I will have answers."

"Any consorting he's done was clearly against his will," said Arthur, not moving, "Merlin is my manservant, and if he says that he doesn't remember then I am inclined to believe him. I also know that as soon as he rediscovers any pertinent information, I'll be the first one he tells. Isn't that right, Merlin?"

Merlin nodded, resisting the urge to lay his head down on the table.

"You will leave this room, Arthur," said Uther, "Or I will have you escorted out by the guards in the hall. Which do you prefer?"

"I'm not leaving," said Arthur quietly. Merlin, through his relief, wondered at the calm way Arthur had been dealing with his father. It was nothing short of extraordinary.

Uther stared at him for a few seconds, wordless, and then called out, "Guards."

The door opened and the four men filed in.

"Take my son into the hall," said the king, "Make sure he stays out of here until I've finished. And get the servant to his feet."

"Don't do this," Arthur said, trying to pull away as he was grabbed by two of them and yanked towards the door, "It will only make things worse." Uther ignored him, face stony and unreadable.

"Arthur," Merlin whispered as he was pulled to his feet. The memories at the back of his mind were creeping closer again, thoughts of dark places and cold places and places filled with screaming voices. But the prince, struggling all the way, was pulled out into the hall and the door was shut behind him, the thud of it closing ringing with a terrible sort of finality.

"You will tell me everything you know about Morgana," Uther said, moving so he was directly in front of Merlin.

"I don't know anything," Merlin said, swallowing thickly. A shiver ran down his spine as he tried to back away. But he hit one of the guards who, at a nod from Uther, grabbed Merlin's shoulders and held him in place. It made his broken arm twinge with pain, and Merlin spun away from reality.

Everything exploded into a dull roar. Uther was saying questions, voice rising steadily in volume, inches from Merlin's face. He tried to wrench away from the guard again, but was held firmly in place. Things were too bright, too real, and Merlin slammed his eyes shut. Uther, now bellowing, grabbed the front of his shirt and jerked him forward. Merlin crashed to his knees, incomplete and half formed memories washing over him faster than he could process them. It felt like a thousand angry voices shrieking at him, a thousand angry voices demanding answers and responses. He couldn't sort them out, it was too much.

There was the sound of a door slamming against a wall, and there were more people yelling, now. Merlin couldn't make out what was actually happening in front of him and what was just in his mind, playing too quickly to comprehend through his memory. An arm looped around his shoulders, and he tried to jerk away, but whoever was there stayed firm. A voice, low and quiet, was talking incessantly in his ear.

Dimly, he was aware of getting pulled up to his feet and stumbling out of Gaius's chambers. Even more faintly did he realize that there were still people yelling, but they were drifting further and further away. The voices from his memories were getting quieter as well, drifting towards the back of his mind once again. All the while, whoever was leading him continued their endless stream of calming chatter at him.

"I don't know," he said, not caring if he was begging, "Please, I don't know."

"That's alright, Merlin," said the voice, "That's alright, you're alright."

"Gwaine?" he said,.

"Are you back to yourself again?" the knight asked, arm still wrapped firmly around Merlin's shoulders.

"I don't know," he said, "I don't know what happened, I –"

Gwaine shushed him. "Just stay quiet and we'll wait for someone to come with Gaius, yeah?"

"Arthur –"

"Is dealing with his father," said Gwaine, "Settle down."

Merlin nodded. He kept his eyes closed. So it was that neither he nor Gwaine – who was too preoccupied with getting Merlin calm again – noticed the cloaked woman with the burning, golden eyes approaching them until it was far too late to do anything.

The door shut behind them, and the two guards let Arthur go. The prince felt sick to his stomach, thinking of Merlin – poor, pale, fragile Merlin – alone in there with his father. "Let me back in," he said to the guards.

"Sorry, Prince Arthur," one said, "But you know we can't do that."

"Oh, Arthur," Gwaine said, coming around the corner, "You're here. Pity, I was looking forward to popping you one. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad that…" He trailed off, eyes twitching from Arthur's face to the two guards standing by the door. "What's going on?"

"My father's talking with Merlin," said Arthur, his mouth gone dry, cottony. "He – Gwaine, Merlin remembered something during, about Morgana, and my father –"

"Why aren't you in there? Why aren't we in there?" Gwaine said, standing next to Arthur. From inside, they could hear Uther yelling. Arthur's stomach clenched. Gwaine glared at the guards, "Let us in there."

"The king has ordered the prince from the room."

"To hell with that," said Gwaine, and drew his sword. Arthur, who didn't have his sword with him, pulled on his gloves and cracked his knuckles. "Let us in, or we break your faces."

The first guard looked at the second. In a single motion, they both stepped away from the door.

"Brilliant, pleasure doing business with you," said Gwaine, sheathing his sword. Arthur was already pushing inside the room. He paused for a moment, unable to move.

Merlin was on the ground, his good hand pressed to his head, shudders running through him in waves. Uther was towering over him, and for a terrible moment Arthur wondered if Uther knew about the magic. But that was stupid, Arthur decided, because the only thing that got his father this wound up was Morgana.

He stepped between them, pressing a hand against his father's chest and forcing him to back up a step. Gwaine slipped past them, kneeling on the floor to wrap an arm around Merlin's shoulders, talking quietly in his ear. Merlin, eyes clenched shut, tried to pull away. Every instinct that Arthur had screamed at him to check on Merlin, to talk to Merlin, to make sure that Merlin was all right. Instead he forced himself to focus on the king.

"You dare to directly disobey me?" Uther said.

"Father, please, just take a moment to consider this," said Arthur, fighting to keep his voice as even as possible. The very moment Uther sensed any sort of emotional involvement, Arthur knew that the fight would be lost before he had a chance to begin. So as the sound of Merlin's gasped breaths threatened to break him, Arthur continued, "Think of how this will look to the council."

"I am ensuring the safety of our kingdom," Uther said, "Something that you should –"

"I'm aware of your intentions," said Arthur, "But are they? I know you are of sound mind, but consider how this will look to the council. Merlin's weak and confused, hurt. And then you start interrogating him over Mor – over her?"

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying," said Arthur, as Gwaine pulled Merlin up from the floor, warlock leaning all of his weight bonelessly on him, and staggered from the room, "That to someone who is not you or I may view this as a relapse."

Uther was quiet. Then, he let out a breath, tension leaving his shoulders. "You're right," he said, "Of course you're right. However."

"Yes?"

"We must find her to bring her to justice," said Uther, "It is more important than anything else."

"Yes, Father," said Arthur, "But there are better ways than browbeating a servant who's obviously been tortured. Merlin's no knight. He's had no training for that type of situation."

"Exactly," said Uther, "And as such should have been killed. They would only keep him alive for so long as he was useful. The very fact your servant still lives implies that he gave them some sort of information. Gave her information, or made a deal of some nature. After a certain amount of time they would have just given up on him, unless they believed him worth something."

It was a valid point, and one that Arthur hadn't considered. Uther turned to leave Gaius's chambers, and then turned back to look at his son. "Arthur," he said, "While I appreciate your concerns for my…image, understand that if you disobey my orders again, I will take disciplinary action."

"I understand," said Arthur.

"Good," said Uther, and swept from the room. Arthur silently counted, making sure his father had gone. Then he tore off down the corridor to find Merlin and Gwaine.


	6. Chapter 6

As Arthur moved down the hall, he found Percival and Gaius walking towards him. "What's happening?" Gaius said, "Percival said something about the king –"

"It was bad," said Arthur, "Gwaine's taken Merlin somewhere, his room, I'm assuming, but…"

"Lead the way, Sire," said Gaius, face grim.

The last thing any of them expected to see upon turning a corner was Gwaine, sprawled and unconscious in the middle of the corridor, a trail of blood running from his hairline down the side of his face. Merlin was nowhere in sight.

"Gwaine," Arthur said, tapping his face. Gaius kneeled stiffly next to the knight just as Gwaine's eyes opened. He blinked blearily. Arthur said, "Gwaine, where's Merlin?"

Gwaine's eyes focused immediately. "Arthur, Merlin," Gwaine said, trying to sit up. Gaius shoved him back down. "You've got to go and find Merlin. Your sister's sister, the blonder, bitchier one, she's here, and –"

"Morgause?" Gaius said, as Arthur froze.

"That's what I said," Gwaine said, batting the physician's hand away as he tried to examine his head. "Arthur, why are you still here? She's taken Merlin."

Three little words, just three, and Arthur felt fear grip his stomach, sharp and stabbing. He, not having his own, grabbed Gwaine's sword and ran down the hall, Percival just behind him.

One minute, Merlin had been being dragged gently along with Gwaine towards a destination unknown. The next, Gwaine was flying forward, head smacking into the wall. Merlin was thrown off balance and almost went tumbling down with him, but a vice-like grip latched onto his left arm. He tried to pull away, but fingers like claws dug in and twisted the limb brutally behind his back.

Merlin, still strung out from his encounter with the king, went limp and was pulled along with whoever it was without a fight.

He was pushed abruptly into a room, left shoulder stabbing with pain, and almost fell over. There was the click of a door shutting, and he looked up to find a woman watching him with unreadable brown eyes, long blonde hair tumbling down.

"Morgause," he said. But that wasn't possible, was it? Morgause had died, and besides, it had been Morgana in his – oh. One of the half-formed memories that had rushed forward earlier surfaced again, of Morgause yelling and then nothing but blinding agony.

"You've promised me something, Emrys," she said, and Merlin's throat seemed to close in on itself. She knew about the magic, then. For the life of him, he could only stare at her with his mouth hanging open. "You've promised me something, and I am here to collect on that."

"Wh-what," said Merlin, and forced himself to stop. Then, with a slightly stronger voice, he said, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Somewhere outside the room, a voice loudly yelled out, "Merlin!"

"It seems Arthur's discovered that you're gone," she said. "Strange, that he's so worried over you. Especially after he made you leave like that."

Merlin stilled, and a second of the half-formed memories that had ripped it's way forward while Uther questioned him drifted across his mind. Arthur's voice, ringing out, snapping something at him. Merlin, however, couldn't remember the actual words. "I don't know."

Morgause, silent, just stared at him for a while. Then, eyes narrowing, she said, "You have no idea what I'm talking about. How interesting. You have no idea."

"I've no idea about what?" Merlin said. He knew straight down to his bones that listening to Morgause could only end badly. But he wanted answers, answers she seemed to have.

From outside, closer this time, Arthur bellowed, "Merlin, answer me!"

"This changes things," she said, "This changes everything. Did you know that I was going to take you with me today? But, no…No, I think you're best here."

She moved closer, and Merlin backed away until his back hit the wall behind him. When he didn't answer, her eyes flared gold and she pressed her palm against his forehead, and –

He hurt, everywhere. The chains were biting and cold, burning and freezing his skin at the same time. His magic was screaming to get out, tearing and raging at him. Every inch of him throbbed and ached, stabbed and crawled with agony.

"You can make it stop, you know," a voice whispered softly, gently in his ear. "It is easy."

Merlin couldn't concentrate, couldn't think, couldn't do anything, except hang there and beg for it to stop. "Please, please, just take it away…"

A hand grasped his chin. Grave, brown, uncaring eyes stared back at him. "Then swear it."

He stared back. A week ago – two weeks? Three? He didn't know anymore, didn't know anything anymore, only that he hurt – he would've spat right in her face, and snapped exactly what she could do with that offer. Now, though, he just sobbed and pleaded.

"Then swear it, Merlin."

"Yes," he gasped, "Yes, whatever you want, just, please…I-I-I c-c-c-can't –"

Merlin jerked away. "What did you do to me?" he whispered.

"It's nothing that I did," she said, "It's what you've done. It's what Arthur's done. I'm just helping things along. You're no good to me like this, no memories of the Pendragon's betrayal."

She leaned forward again, eyes beginning to glow gold. Merlin had backed himself straight into a corner, no way to escape. A strangled yell jumped from his throat, and with a lurch that left black spots dancing in his vision, his magic lashed out at Morgause. It was barely enough to make her stumble backwards. But Merlin, as soon as the burst of magic had finished, could feel a cut on his back quietly open up, and he winced.

Gaius had been right about his magic healing him, then.

Immediately, Arthur's voice, just outside the door, called, "Merlin? Merlin!" The door shuddered with the force of an overprotective prince slamming into it. Then, Arthur, bellowing again, this time with an edge of panic, "Percival!"

Morgause looked like she wanted to say something. Instead, she backed away to stand by the window. The door flew open. Percival came in first, and Arthur just after him, both with swords drawn. Morgause, a smirk unfurling on her lips, disappeared with a loud bang. Merlin, leaning over the chair, barely able to stand, let out a large sight of relief.

Arthur dropped the sword – but not his, Merlin noted distantly, Merlin had sharpened Arthur's sword enough times to know when a blade was not it – to the ground with a clatter, and with two large steps crossed the room to Merlin's side.

"Are you alright?" Arthur said, grabbing Merlin's shoulders and pulling him upright. Merlin cleared his throat and tried to answer, but his voice didn't want to work. His legs were shaking beneath him, threatening to give out. Arthur shook him slightly, which really did little to help matters, and repeated, louder, "Are you alright?"

Merlin started to nod, but his knees buckled instead and he crashed forward. Arthur caught him, and, with a tone that Merlin could only describe as panicked, said, "Are you hurt? Merlin? Tell me where she's hurt you. Your back's bleeding."

"I'm f-fine, I was hurt th-there before," he said, voice muffled by Arthur's shirt. That wasn't strictly true, of course. Now his left shoulder hurt just as much as his broken right arm. Still, though, he could move it. Small victories, and all that. A terrible thought slammed into him. "Gwaine?"

"Is fine," said Arthur, "He just had a bump on the head. Are you sure you're alright?"

No, actually, now that he was thinking about it. Merlin meant to take a step back, just to realize he was still leaning most of his weight on Arthur, the prince's arms just about the only thing holding him up. His cheeks burned slightly with embarrassment and he tried to pull away. Arthur apparently didn't notice, and was busy glaring daggers at the spot that Morgause had vanished from.

"Arthur?" Merlin said.

"What?"

"You can let go of me now."

"What?" Arthur said, sounding perplexed. Apparently, he hadn't realized he had Merlin still leaning on him either. He let go rather abruptly, and Merlin stood. He was still shaky and felt more than a bit sick, and his arm hurt, but his pride demanded that he try and stand on his own.

"Right," said Arthur, cracking his knuckles in what he clearly hoped to be a manly fashion. Percival snorted quietly. Arthur gave him a glare, and then turned to Merlin to say, "All the same, Gaius is going to take a look at you. I can't leave you alone even for a moment, can I?"

Anger, icy and scorching, swirled around in Merlin's stomach. "But you can for the past two weeks, can you?"

Arthur blinked, taken aback at the vehemence with which Merlin spoke. Merlin couldn't bring himself to care. Arthur, still looking rather gobsmacked, said, "What?"

Instead of pushing that further, Merlin said, "How did I get captured?"

Arthur frowned, apparently thrown by the question. "Pardon?"

"At the beginning, when all of…of this started," Merlin said, swaying slightly, "How did I get caught? Was it on the patrol, or what?"

Now the prince wasn't meeting Merlin's eyes. "Why are you bringing this up now?"

"Because I want to know."

"I'll tell you later," said Arthur, "You've had enough stress for one day."

"No," Merlin said, "No, I'm sick of people telling me later, because later never comes. I want to know now."

"Enough, Merlin," said Arthur. Percival hung back, looking very much like he wanted to flee. "It'll only upset you more, I think."

"Or it won't," said Merlin, "Why don't you want to tell me?"

Arthur narrowed his eyes. "Did Morgause say something to you?" he asked, "You can't trust her, she's – "

"I know that," Merlin snapped, "What I want to know is why you, who I am supposed to trust, haven't come and spoken with me since I got brought back here, and I want to know what it is you aren't saying."

"Later, I –"

"No," Merlin said, dangerously close to yelling. "No, you do not get to pick and choose what I know and what I don't. What aren't you telling me?"

"Merlin," Percival said, laying a hand on Merlin's shoulder, "Calm down–"

Merlin jerked away and said, "Don't touch me."

"You're up early," Merlin said, setting down Arthur's food. He hovered, then, unsure of what to do. Arthur was up. The curtains were open. Currently, the prince was struggling to get his shirt on right. Merlin, finding his way to reenter the land of the normal, walked over, and reached out, "Here, let me –"

"Don't touch me," the Prince snarled, slapping his hand away.

" –lin? Merlin, what's wrong?" Arthur was saying. Merlin opened his eyes – when had he closed them? – and found himself sagging against the wall once again.

"What?" he said. His ears were ringing slightly.

Percival, hovering behind Arthur, said, "We should find Gaius."

"N-no," Merlin said, shaking his head. He forced himself to stand up straight. "I'm fine."

Neither Arthur nor Percival looked convinced. "You've remembered something, haven't you?" Arthur asked.

"I didn't even go on the patrol," Merlin said, heart in his throat, "Did I?"

Arthur was quiet, and said, "No. No, you didn't."

"Then how did I get captured?" he said. Arthur still wasn't meeting his eyes. "Arthur, how did I –"

" – know, Merlin," said Arthur. "I know all about it."

"Know about what?" Merlin said, frowning.

"What do you think?" Arthur all but spit out.

"I-I don't know," said Merlin, "If I've done something wrong, I'm sorry, but I have –"

"That's how it's going to be, then," said Arthur, turning away ever so slightly, "You're going to make me say it."

"Say what?" said Merlin, "If this is about your boots, I'll have you know that I'm not going to clean them again until –"

"Magic, Merlin!" Arthur bellowed.

And the world ground to a halt.

Oh. Oh, no. No, no, no. Arthur couldn't know. He couldn't. "You," he said, staring at Arthur. "No, you c-can't. Y-you ."

"Okay, that's enough of this," said Arthur, "You need to calm down before you pass out."

"Arthur," Merlin said, "You –"

"You have magic. I trusted you, and you used me," Arthur snarled, "You used me to get into the castle. You've been using me since the start."

"Arthur, think about this," Merlin pleaded, "When have I ever tried to hurt you or your father? I've only ever –"

"Stop lying to me," said Arthur, shoving Merlin roughly so that the servant sprawled on the ground. Merlin, heart hammering, could only gape wordlessly up as Arthur towered over him. "I don't pretend to know how the minds of sorcerers work. You were probably waiting so you could take the throne for yourself –"

"I would never," Merlin said, scrambling to his feet, "Arthur, please!"

"Enough!" Arthur bellowed. "You're lucky I don't kill you where you stand."

"Merlin, please," Arthur said, and Merlin realized that once again the prince was the only thing keeping him standing. Strange, since he was, at the same time, the one who was ripping Merlin down. "Merlin?"

Merlin just gasped for air.

"Percival, go and find Gaius. Now!"

"What are you going to do with me?" Merlin said, rubbing his shaking hands against his thighs in a desperate attempt to get them to still.

"I should turn you in to my father. I should have you executed."

Merlin flinched.

Arthur continued, "But I'm not going to. Because you've lied to me, but you've also saved my life several times, no doubt to reach your own gains."

"Arthur," Merlin said, and couldn't find anything else to say.

"Your intentions aside, a debt is a debt," Arthur said, turning away from Merlin to face out the window. "You're a traitor and a liar. You and your kind, you're all the same. You , Morgana, Morgause – get out of my sight, Sorcerer!" Arthur bellowed, "And if I ever see you again, I will kill you."

"Arthur –"

"Go!"

Merlin scrambled to his feet, and ran out the door. He didn't look back.

"What's taking Gaius?" Arthur muttered. Merlin jerked away from his grip. He staggered away, pressed against the wall. But his legs were done holding him up, and he slid gracelessly to the floor. Arthur moved closer to him, hovering, obviously unsure what to do. "Merlin? I need you to talk to me."

"Please," Merlin whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. "Please, don't kill me, I didn't have a choice, I…I wanted to tell…about the magic…but…please, don't kill me…"

The last thing that Merlin saw before his body finally gave out on him was Arthur, rigid and still, face as shocked as if someone had just slapped him.

Merlin sat up, quickly and abruptly, clutching at his chest and gasping. He swung his legs off the side of the bed so his feet were on the floor, unable to catch his breath. Gaius was next to him immediately.

"Oh, God," Merlin said, "Arthur knows, he knows, and Morgause –"

Gaius pushed Merlin's head down between his knees, a warm hand at the nape of his neck. Merlin's stomach rolled threateningly, and he felt as if someone had sucked all of the strength out of him. He pressed his shaking hand against his head, forcing himself to focus on Gaius's voice above him.

"Gaius," he moaned.

"Don't talk, Merlin," the physician ordered, "Just focus on your breathing."

"You don't understand," he said, trying to sit up, even though it made everything spin and whirl and his stomach lurch, "I, Morgause, she's –"

"She's left, and you're perfectly safe," said Gaius soothingly, forcing his head back down, "Now Gwaine's gone to fetch you some water, and –"

"Gwaine?" Merlin said faintly. Oh, right, Gwaine had hauled him away from Uther. He and Arthur had…

Arthur.

"Arthur knows, Gaius," Merlin said, and there were tears pressing at the backs of his eyes once more. His breathing was getting erratic again, and in a distant, vague sort of way decided he was getting rather sick of that happening.

"Yes, Merlin," Gaius said, one hand rubbing his back, the other staying by the back of Merlin's head. It was wonderfully anchoring. "He's known for several months, now."

"But," Merlin said, "He sent me away, he…he said…"

Merlin stumbled into Gaius's empty chambers the door swinging shut behind him. He grabbed his bag and moved blindly through the room, throwing things into it. He paid no attention to what he was doing, what he was packing, too preoccupied with a single thought. Arthur knew. And now he hated Merlin.

The bag slipped from Merlin's fingers to land on the floor. Merlin leaned over, hands on the tabletop, and cried like a child.

" – that water, thank you," Gaius said, and there was the sound of liquid being poured.

"I can get more," Gwaine's voice offered.

"No, this should be fine," Gaius said, still next to Merlin, "Fetch me that bottle over there, with the green stopper."

Gwaine again, "Why? What is it?"

"He can't handle this," said Gaius, "I'm just going to give him a –"

He kept his eyes glued to the floor as he walked, hugging his bag to his chest. He didn't know where he was going to go. He considered Ealdor, but it didn't seem right. He wasn't a part of that life anymore, hadn't been for years and years. Camelot was – what was he going to do now? What about his destiny?

He was so wrapped up in his whirling thoughts that he didn't notice Lancelot coming towards him until he walked straight into the knight. He stuttered an apology and tried to keep moving, but Lancelot grabbed onto his arm.

"Merlin, are you alright?" Lancelot said. "You look like someone's died."

"N-no. Everyone's fine. It's just, Arthur, he, um," said Merlin, "I have to go."

He tried to pull away, but Lancelot kept hold of his arm, eyes twitching down to Merlin's bag. "Merlin," he said, "What's happened?"

"Nothing."

"You're lying."

Merlin, desperate to get away, slowed down time. He waited until he'd wrenched free of Lancelot and was out of the castle before he let things go back to their normal speed. Then, he all but ran from the city.

" – must drink this, Merlin," Gaius said, and sat him up straight. The world tilted dangerously as the physician forced the cup into his hands. But he was shaking so much that the liquid began to slosh out over the top and to the floor. Gaius took the cup back, and pressed it to Merlin's lips. Merlin, barely registering it, gulped the water down. The effect was instant, exhaustion sweeping through him. "Sleep, Merlin," Gaius said. "We'll deal with this when you wake."

"He knows, Gaius," Merlin muttered, fighting not to pass out, "And Morgause, she…she's done something to me…"

And he was swept away into a drugged oblivion.

"Well," said Gwaine, "I think I speak for all of us when I say that yesterday could have gone somewhat better."

They were once again gathered in the room where they had voted, all of them save for Gaius and, this time, Leon. Arthur, sitting with his arms crossed and staring at the wall, couldn't help the small snort that escaped him.

"Firstly," said Gwaine, "Arthur, I'm glad you went and talked to Merlin. I'm less glad that your father took it on himself to traumatize him. I'm even less glad than that the evil bitch chose to –"

"Witch."

"What did I say?" said Gwaine, looking honestly confused, "Anyway. I'm even less happy that the evil bitch chose to pseudo-kidnap Merlin shortly after bashing my head into a stone wall. Which brings me to this point: What did she want with Merlin?"

"I don't know," said Arthur. He kept his eyes still glued on the spot on the wall. "Merlin didn't say. He panicked before."

The prince didn't need to look over to know that Lancelot was glaring holes in the back of his head. They all knew what is was that Merlin had remembered, at this point. The very first thing that Lancelot had said, upon walking in, was , "If we had told him, this wouldn't have been this bad."

He was right. But that didn't mean that Arthur had to be happy about it.

The others continued to talk, trying to piece together how Morgause had gotten in, formulating theories about why she'd sought out Merlin for seemingly no reason. They'd come to an unspoken, mutual decision to not seek out the king and the guards to help with this particular situation for obvious reasons. Arthur just stared at his wall some more, letting their conversation fade to the background. All he could think about was Merlin, staring at him with absolute terror, and begging for his life. Merlin had been scared of Arthur. It hurt more than he cared to admit.

He stood up and everyone stopped talking to stare at him. He moved towards the door.

"Arthur, wait," said Gwen, "Where are you going?"

"To see Merlin," he said, "He's right. No more later."

He walked out. No one stopped him.

When he walked into Gaius's chambers, the physician and Merlin were sitting at the table, silent. They both jumped slightly when Arthur walked in. "Gaius," said Arthur, "Would you, uh –"

"I'll leave you two to it," said Gaius, rising and leaving.

It left Merlin and Arthur alone. Merlin, blanket wrapped around his shoulders, was looking anywhere but directly at Arthur. "Merlin," he said, sitting down across from the warlock. But then he found himself at a loss for words.

"I thought you never wanted to see me again," Merlin said. His voice was flat, emotionless, and one of the worst things that Arthur had ever heard.

"When I...found out," said Arthur, "I panicked."

"Why did you even come after me?" Merlin cut in, still monotonous, still not looking at Arthur, "I would have thought you would have been glad to have me out of your hair for good."

Arthur gaped at him, any and all thoughts wiped from his mind. "What?" he said, "Merlin, how could you think -"

"You made it clear you didn't want anything to do with me," said Merlin, "And I can't figure out why it is you came after me."

"Because I made a mistake," said Arthur, "One of the worst of my life, if not the actual worst. And...And you're my friend, and when I found out you were in trouble, I knew it was all my fault. I've made a terrible mess of things, and all you've ever done is stand by my side and be my friend, and I...I understand if you can't or don't want to forgive me, but I'm sorry, Merlin. I know it can't change anything that's happened, but I'm so sorry."

Merlin glanced up sharply, meeting Arthur's eyes for barely a second before staring back down at the tabletop again. "How did you find out about my magic?" he said, and while his voice still had that terrible flatness, there was the smallest tremor in the words. "And if you say later –"

"I'm not going to say later," said Arthur, "It's just…We haven't been telling you things, because we were worried what effect it would have on you. But I think its worse, letting you muddle through it on your own, especially if Morgause is going to be...I don't know your half of the story, but I know mine. I want to tell you it. Would that be alright?"

Merlin nodded wordlessly. He began tapping out the irregular pattern against the tabletop again.

"Okay. But you need to say something if it's too much, or if we need to take a break," said Arthur, and paused. "It was three days before you vanished. I'd went off to training with the knights, but I got almost all of the way down to the field, and I realized that I'd left my sword up in my room."


	7. Chapter 7

Two and a half months earlier…

Arthur, half of the way down to the training field, slowed to a stop. "Oh, come on," he said to himself, poking at his empty scabbard. Merlin must have forgotten to put the sword back in its place after cleaning it again. Rolling his eyes, he turned around and went back the way he came.

Arthur pushed open the door, and stopped at the sight of Merlin cleaning his chambers. Or, rather, he was stopped by the sight of Merlin flicking his hands around while Arthur's chambers cleaned themselves. His back was to Arthur all of the while, and as a result he didn't see the prince standing there. Watching Merlin. Using magic. Merlin was using magic.

And, all the while he was doing this, Merlin was humming. Humming. Humming some nonsensical, tuneless, Merlin-like melody as he sent boots running off against their will and dust crawling out the window. He stopped, surveying the now clean room. Arthur's hand went for his sword, just to remember the very reason that he'd come back here was to get his sword. Merlin started to turn towards the door, but Arthur moved away, pressing himself into hiding out of sight.

Merlin poked his head out the door, looking around warily. Arthur didn't even dare breathe as Merlin vanished back into the room for a moment. Then, whistling beneath his breath, his servant bounced out of the room and down the hall, still humming that odd tuneless song.

Arthur left his alcove and, as his first action, proceeded to tear apart his room searching for any signs of magical threats. It wasn't long before his room was trashed, belongings spread out all over the floor and a pair of pants dangling off of the curtain rod. Arthur stood in the middle of the disaster, staring blankly into space. Some sort of dangerous magical creature had, obviously, kidnapped Merlin and proceeded to take his place in the castle with no doubt nefarious intentions. At least, Arthur hoped the idiot had only been kidnapped. The alternative was…unsettling. Scratching his head, he considered his options.

Any other time, Arthur would have gone straight to Gaius, but Gaius wasn't here, not for another week, at least. And if he went to his father, then Uther would just have Clearly-Not-Merlin executed, leaving Arthur with no way to track down Real Merlin.

Nodding to himself, Arthur walked off in the direction Clearly-Not-Merlin had set obliviously off in, completely disregarding training. Before he went to the knights, though, he wanted proof and a solid argument.

It was two days later, and they were to leave on patrol the next day. Arthur sank down on the side of his bed. Two days, he had spent the last two days following Merlin everywhere the servant went. He had assigned him ridiculous, impossible tasks, and with grumbling Merlin would complete them, each time using magic. He'd also spoken to Gwaine and Lancelot and the others, but none of them had noticed anything out of the usual about Merlin. And the more Arthur thought about it, the more he came to suspect that Merlin hadn't been replaced by a dangerous magical creature, but was actually a dangerous magical creature himself.

A sorcerer.

Arthur buried his face in his hands. The last time he'd been this stupidly terrified was when he thought that Guinevere was going to be burned on accusations of witchcraft. Like Merlin would be if he were caught.

Arthur didn't think for a second that Merlin would try and hurt Camelot. Maybe he'd come to the city with such intentions initially, but Arthur couldn't be bothered to care at this point. He refused to believe that the Merlin he knew, the only one who had dared to just tell him to his face what he thought, could do anything to remotely attack Arthur. If he was going to, surely it would have happened by now.

But that didn't change the fact that Merlin was a sorcerer. In Camelot. He was actively using and practicing magic within not only the kingdom, not only the city, but right inside the castle walls. Merlin was not safe. Merlin, smiling and stupid, lying and deceiving, was not safe here.

That night, Arthur didn't sleep. There were too many visions of pyres being lit dancing through his head, phantom screams rising up from the courtyard. He gave up any pretenses of sleeping when the sun rose. He pulled open the curtains and stared outside. The courtyard was empty, but it was way too simple to imagine the executioner's block, the raised axe, Merlin on his knees, eyes shut as the blade came crashing down on his neck…

Arthur pressed his forehead against the glass. There was only one thing that he could do.

Merlin came waltzing in, tripping slightly as he crossed the threshold as Arthur was struggling to put his shirt on. "Oh," said Merlin. "You're up early."

Arthur shut his eyes for a moment, and braced himself for what he had to do.

"Here," said Merlin, reaching out towards him, "Let me –"

"Don't touch me," he snapped, brushing Merlin's hand away. He didn't miss the look of hurt that crossed Merlin's – not Merlin, couldn't think of him as clumsy Merlin, the sorcerer's – face. He had to do it now. Now. Before he lost his nerve and condemned Merlin to an inevitable execution at the hands of Arthur's father.

Arthur didn't even know what he said, then. What words he threw like daggers at Merlin, each one sharp and aimed to hurt. Merlin looked a little bit like he was dying. Arthur wondered how many times Merlin had thought about this moment, where Arthur found out. How many different scenarios the idiot had come up with, and of those, how many of them resembled the one that Arthur was forcing him through right now? So, Arthur paid little heed to the venom he spat out, and guessed (thoughthopedprayed) that Merlin would remember each and every word for the rest of his life. He even gave Merlin a shove, at one point.

At the end, when Merlin's eyes were filled with barely contained tears, Arthur turned away and said, "Get out of my sight, Sorcerer. And if I ever see you again, I will kill you."

Merlin didn't move. Just said, in a voice that was broken, "Arthur –"

Arthur squeezed his eyes shut and bellowed, "Go!"

Merlin, each breath hitching, scrambled to his feet and ran for the door. Arthur could hear his footsteps swiftly crossing the floor. Then the door slammed.

Arthur crossed his room to the chamber pot, and threw up into it. "It's for the best," he told his empty, silent room when he'd finished, "It's for the best."

But for who?

It wasn't until the end of the day – after training and meetings and not thinking about Merlin's footsteps leaving the room – that Lancelot tracked him down, face grim and jaw set. "Something's wrong with Merlin. I saw him earlier but he refused to tell me," the knight said, walking into Arthur's room, not bothering with any preamble. The prince didn't answer, just kept gazing out the window. "And now no one can find him anywhere. Have you seen him?"

"Did you know?" he asked, voice rough.

"Did I know what?"

"About Merlin's magic," said Arthur, twitching his gaze over at Lancelot. "Did you know?"

Lancelot didn't answer, but the thunderstruck expression that flew onto his face was answer enough. Arthur could also see the pieces flying together in the knight's mind. "What did you do?" Lancelot asked, "Arthur. What have you done? Where's Merlin?"

"He's gone," said the prince, "And – And he won't be coming back to Camelot."

"What did you do?" said Lancelot again.

Arthur turned, and as he swept out said, "You should have told me."

Lancelot wouldn't say another word to him save for clipped answers to direct questions for the next two months. But he was talking to Gwen, because the very next day she came up to Arthur, and said, "What's happened to Merlin?"

"He's left."

"Why?" said Gwen, "Where did he go?"

"I don't know," Arthur said, choosing to answer only her second question, "Ealdor, maybe. I don't know."

"How can you not know?" she said. "You're his friend."

"No," he said, "No, I'm not. Not anymore."

"Arthur," she said, staring at him in shock, "How can you say that? Lancelot mentioned that –"

"Merlin practices magic, Gwen," said Arthur, and her words faded off as her mouth dropped open.

"No," she said, "There must have been some mistake, he…someone's framed him, then. Merlin isn't a sorcerer."

"It isn't a mistake," said Arthur, "Ask Lancelot if you don't believe me, he was in on the whole thing."

"But he's Merlin," said Gwen, tears welling in her eyes, "He can't be a sorcerer."

"I saw him at it," said Arthur.

When he didn't continue, she said, "You haven't…I mean, Arthur, you didn't turn him in, did you?"

"Of course I didn't," Arthur said, "But he won't be coming back."

"What did you do?" Gwen whispered.

"I made sure he wouldn't die here," said Arthur, pushing past her, not looking up to her face where he knew she was crying, "I made sure he wasn't coming back."

A week passed, and there was no sign of Merlin. Gaius returned to the city, and Arthur remained in his chambers, watching from the window. The old man was barely off his cart and Lancelot (with Gwaine just behind him) was crossing the courtyard. Arthur watched the discussion the three had, could see the seriousness in their posture. Gwaine had known, as well? Or had he found out from Guinevere? Arthur wouldn't have been surprised in either case.

Gaius looked up towards his window. Arthur stepped away, the guilt threatening to choke him. "It was for the best," he said again. This time, he was less convinced.

"Sire," said Gaius, approaching Arthur after a council meeting and not bothering to pretend, "At least tell me if he lives or not."

"He lives," said Arthur, after a moment. "But…But he wouldn't have lived had he stayed here, Gaius. I didn't have a choice."

"Yes, you did, Sire," said the old physician, "I only hope that you made the right one."

"He isn't in Ealdor," said Gwaine, after training.

It was two weeks after Arthur had sent Merlin away. No one – save for Arthur and, of course, Merlin – knew exactly what had had happened to make the servant vanish so abruptly. But word traveled fast around the castle, and Merlin, servant though he'd been, had been a widely recognized face. It had taken an alarmingly short time for everyone to know that Arthur had something to do with it.

"Sorry?" Arthur asked.

"Merlin," said Gwaine, "He isn't in Ealdor."

"Fascinating," said Arthur, "Now, if you'll excuse me."

Gwaine fell into step beside him. "It's just…interesting," he said. "Merlin taking off like that with no warning. I mean to say that if I'd done that, it wouldn't be a problem. But Merlin? He isn't the running type, so that worries me. He's been gone for, what, two weeks now? And now we find that he didn't go home to his little village to his mother. We all know you two had a falling out, but I – "

"Is there a reason that you're telling me all of this?" Arthur snapped, drawing to a stop.

"In a manner of speaking," said Gwaine, "I'd like to go on a quest."

"What sort of quest?"

"Officially?" the knight asked. When Arthur nodded, "Officially, the goal of the quest will become clear given time and journeying."

"What about unofficially?"

"We both know what it is, unofficially," said Gwaine, "But I'll say it if you'd like."

"I would."

"Unofficially, if, by chance, while I was searching for the goal of my quest, I happened to chance upon Merlin," Gwaine said. "There are many bad things that can happen to defenseless Merlins gamboling about, alone in the woods."

Arthur paused, thought of the ease that Merlin had sent things flying about his rooms, and said, "He's hardly defenseless."

Gwaine shrugged, "Maybe. Maybe not. The point is that I'm worried about him, and I'd rather make sure he's okay regardless."

"He can't come back here," said Arthur.

"What happened, Arthur?" Gwaine asked. "I know you two had some sort of falling out, and I know your friendship –"

"We weren't friends," said Arthur sharply. And even if they had been, they certainly weren't now. Now that Arthur had made Merlin leave. "He is – was just my servant."

Gwaine's eyebrows were drawn together in a single, perplexed line. "Fine, I'll play along. I know your association, then, was dysfunctional and, quite frankly, confusing at best, but that's no reason to banish him just because you got yourself in some sort of tizzy."

"If you find him," said Arthur, looking away, "He cannot come back to Camelot."

Gwaine was silent, watching Arthur with stony eyes. "Then I might not, either. Come back, I mean," he finally said. "Because of the quest, you know. It could take a long time."

"Fine," Arthur said, "Fine, just go. I don't care."

Gwaine walked away, and Arthur fully expected to never see him again. The relief he felt was staggering, and he almost had to go and sit down. Because he'd been worrying about Merlin as well, about the trouble Merlin could get himself into. And Gwaine, trouble maker though he was, could at least keep him alive. But surely, anywhere was better than here for Merlin. Wasn't it?

But Arthur did see Gwaine again. Exactly one week after he left on his 'quest'.

Gwaine came marching across the training yard, jaw set, looking angrier that Arthur could ever remember him being. "I didn't expect to see you back," Arthur said, because he didn't know what else to say.

Gwaine just yanked the gauntlet off of his arm and threw it on the grass at Arthur's feet. Everyone around them went deathly silent. "Pick it up, Princess," he snarled.

"Gwaine?" Arthur said, "What are you doing?"

"Pick it up," the knight said again.

"Why are you challenging me?"

"Because something's happened, and according to Lancelot I've you to blame in the grand scheme of things," said Gwaine, "I challenge you, and your honor says that you have to pick. It. Up."

"I would hear your challenge first."

"I would challenge you to answer my questions regarding certain things about a certain friend of mine," said Gwaine, "And I would challenge you to pull that lance out of your ass long enough to hear me out, because I don't care what you've convinced yourself of, but he's your friend too, and you are going to do something about this. Pick up the gauntlet, Arthur."

"What are you talking about?"

Gwaine threw something else to lie next to the gauntlet on the ground. Arthur bent down, and picked up the red bit of worn and ripped fabric, looking at it closely. "Is this –"

"Do you accept my challenge?"

Arthur nodded wordlessly, picking up the gauntlet.

"Follow me, then. I'd druther not have this lot listening in like gossiping milkmaids," said Gwaine, and walked off into the armory. As soon as Arthur followed him in, he slammed the door behind him.

"What is it?" said Arthur.

"According to the frankly appalling sample of humanity I spoke with, that bit of cloth you have belongs to, and I quote, my prince's pet sorcerer. And if my prince wishes to get his sorcerer back, he will deliver the ransom demanded on this scroll," Gwaine threw it, obviously aiming for Arthur's face, "To the likewise disclosed location on the scroll in one week's time, or they'll make you wish they'd kill him."

Arthur's hands clenched around the neckerchief. "Merlin," he said.

"Now you're going to tell me what you said to Merlin to make him leave," Gwaine said, poking Arthur's chest, "Because whatever it was, that's why he's gotten into trouble now, why he was larking about the woods on his own. Merlin is in danger, Arthur. What are you going to do about it?"

Arthur stared down at the red cloth in his hand. Merlin had left three weeks ago. Three. How long had he been captured, held hostage, waiting for some sort of response? And, if Arthur's words had done their job, as he knew they had, how long had Merlin been stuck and thinking that he had no hope of a rescue? The guilt that rammed into him was enough to almost send him collapsing to the floor. But he held his own, and, numbly, told Gwaine everything that had happened.

Gwaine punched him square in the face. Arthur was strangely pleased, even as he stretched his jaw, checking to see if it was broken. "You're a right bastard, you know that?" Gwaine said, "Merlin did everything for you. Everything. And that's how you thanked him?"

Arthur didn't answer, just poked at his jaw some more and didn't look Gwaine in the eye. "Did you know about the magic?" Arthur asked.

"Not explicitly," said Gwaine, "I mean, Merlin never told me. I just figured he would eventually."

"When did you figure it out?"

"The first time I met you two, he was throwing plates. With his mind," said Gwaine, "It wasn't all that hard to make the leap. I always assumed you knew, too, and it was just some sort of unspoken thing."

"I didn't," said Arthur, "And it wasn't."

"Obviously," said Gwaine, "But the question remains – what are you going to do now?"

Arthur looked up at Gwaine. "I'm going to get this ransom together," said Arthur, "But only in case something goes wrong and we can't just kill them."

"When are we leaving?" Gwaine said, "Or is right now too soon?"

"I'll go get the money, and come up with a story to tell my father," said Arthur, walking out, "You find some volunteers."

Arthur didn't remember what he'd told his father. All he knew was that it ended with him being forbidden to leave the castle because his father had, apparently, not bought whatever lie Arthur had concocted. So, after three days of careful planning, Arthur left Leon behind to divert Uther's attentions for as long as possible while he and Gwaine, Lancelot, Elyan, and Percival rode out to get Merlin.

"All I had to say was Merlin's in trouble," said Gwaine, in explanation, "And here we are."

By morning the next day (Merlin had been gone for three weeks and five days) they were at the rendezvous point. It was child's play to track down the outlaws' camp from there. Or, really, what was left of the outlaws' camp. It was mostly a pile of ash and slightly smoking ruins when the five of them rode in. "Woah," said Gwaine, "What happened?"

"Merlin, probably," Lancelot said, sounding almost a little bit smug. All the knights knew about Merlin's magic, at this point. They'd been told as they all left the city, by Gwaine. Gwaine had told them everything that had happened. The glances they kept shooting in Arthur's direction that made the prince's stomach burn with something close to shame.

Suddenly Elyan went sprinting across the clearing. There was a man trying to sneak away while they talked, but Elyan took him to the ground with a flying tackle. The others all moved to stand around him, and Arthur hauled the man to his feet, slamming his back against a tree.

"I'm looking for someone," Arthur said, holding up Merlin's neckerchief so the man could see it, "Where is he? What have you done with him?

"W-We don't have him," the man said, "We'd delivered the ransom demand, and then the next night he got loose and burned down the camp and –"

"Which way did he go?" Arthur said, and when the man didn't answer he jerked him forward and slammed him back against the tree. "Which way was he headed?"

"W-west, I think," the man stuttered, "But I couldn't tell for sure, there was too much fire and smoke."

West it was, then. Arthur walked back to his horse, and mounted up. He looked over to find all of the knights still standing on the ground, watching him. "Well?" he said, "Are you coming?"

"Where?" Elyan said.

"Where do you think, where?" Arthur said, frowning, "West."

"Begging your pardon, Sire," Gwaine said, drawing out the title, "But why are you going west? I understand why I am. You, though…"

"Merlin's gone west," said Arthur.

"Yes," said Gwaine slowly, "And I was under the impression you didn't want him back in Camelot. So I assumed that you'd be heading back to Camelot at this point."

"I," said Arthur, and thought of the terrible panic that had gripped him when Gwaine had threw the neckerchief at his feet, "I may have made a mistake, sending Merlin away like that."

Gwaine clutched his chest, "Oh, be still my beating heart. Is the mighty Prince Arthur admitting he's made a mistake?"

Arthur glared at him, and said, "We're leaving. Now."

They rode away, and left the man alive, a quivering pile on the forest floor. The trail was old, but Merlin was bumbling. They were able to pick up enough of a trail to follow, though they ended up going on foot most of the time. They followed it for several days, stopping when the sun set. Eventually they came to the edge of a small town, and after much deliberation left Elyan and Percival behind to guard their things while Lancelot, Gwaine, and Arthur went into the village. They left their armor behind, going in wearing their plain clothes.

Arthur didn't know how Merlin was going to react on seeing him. He'd rather not risk the idiot trying to slip away after hearing rumors of knights sniffing around.

"So," Lancelot said, as they stood on the one road that ran through the town. "What now?"

"The tavern!" Gwaine said, brightening.

"I hardly think now is the best time," said Arthur.

"Not for drinking, though that wouldn't be remiss," said Gwaine, swaggering off, "But all the best information can be found in taverns. Off we go, gentlemen!"

In the end, Gwaine proved right. The barman told them that yes, he'd seen someone matching Merlin's description, and apparently that someone had been asking as to the whereabouts of Gaius the physician, who, didn't you know, had been helping out the village with a plague that broke out. But don't look nervous, gentlemen, it's all cleared up now.

"Anyway, as I was saying. No use looking for him here," said the barkeep, "He'll be hauled up in the court of Camelot soon enough, most likely."

"Why is that?" Arthur said, mouth suddenly dry.

"He got picked up by a bounty hunter, oh, three nights back," the man said, "And most bounty hunters end up in Camelot, don't they?"

"Did he," Arthur said, and stopped, palms starting to sweat. "Why did the bounty hunter take him?"

"Claimed he was a sorcerer," said the man, cleaning out a mug, "I don't see it, personally, skinny thing like that. But I suppose appearances can be deceiving. All the same, I wouldn't want to be him. He'll probably be dead by the week's end. No one accused of sorcery lasts very long around Uther."

Arthur swallowed back the agreement that rose up in him. "Which way did they leave?"

"Main road out of town," said the barkeep, nodding his head in the direction, "Headed towards the city, like I said. Poor boy. I don't envy his fate."

Except for then the tracks didn't lead to Camelot. Arthur would have missed it completely had Percival, needing to relieve himself, stumbled across the evidence of a fight off in the woods that the road ran through.

"He must've escaped," Gwaine said, grinning broadly, to no one in particular. "Good on you, Merlin!"

"We don't know if this was from him," Elyan pointed out, "It could've been anyone."

Percival cleared his throat, and pointed at a tree with a large hole blasted in the center of it. "I think," he said, "That we can assume magic was used."

They all fell quiet, looking around. It was Gwaine who finally broke the silence. "If that bounty hunter is like the ones I've met, he's not going to stop chasing Merlin until he has him, especially if he's seen Merlin using magic," he said.

"Which is why we press on."

"Arthur," said Elyan, "We've been talking, and we're wondering if you should go back."

"Why?"

"You're the prince," said Percival, "You'll be missed, and the king – "

"No," said Arthur, "No, I'm not going back to Camelot without finding Merlin first."

They had been gone from Camelot just shy of three weeks (Merlin had not been seen by them for one month and three weeks) when they caught up with the bounty hunter.

As the man weighed the bag of coins Arthur tossed to him in his hand, he said, "Aye, I remember. Sold him off about, oh, a week ago."

"To who?" said Arthur. Behind him, Percival shifted slightly and Gwaine growled almost silently at the word 'sold'. Elyan and Lancelot, unbeknownst to the bounty hunter, had circled around from behind in case of trouble.

"She up in the castle," said the bounty hunter, "I was gonna bring him to Camelot – their king pays a hefty sum for them with magic, you know. But he ran off, and I had to chase him. By the time I got him again, we was way off course. Then she turned up. I couldn't just walk away from her offer. 'Specially after the trouble I went through keepin' him."

"What sort of trouble?" Arthur asked before he could stop himself.

"Oh, you know," said the hunter, "Always tryin' to run, usin' his spells. Persistent thing, though, I have to give him that. He managed to get away, oh, three times. Mostly you beat them a bit and they give it up, but I had to drug him and keep him gagged. Worked like a charm –"

None of them knew who moved first, but when the flurry had died down, the bounty hunter was flat on his back, Gwaine's sword at his throat, many new bruises acquired from Arthur's fists, and a broken ankle courtesy of Percival. Elyan and Lancelot came out of the woods, gaping slightly. Arthur squatted down by the man's face, and said, "Where's this castle that you sold him at?"

He spat at Arthur.

"Percival," said the prince.

The large man slammed his foot down on the bounty hunter's hand. He howled in pain.

"Now," said Arthur, and Gwaine dug the tip of his sword in just enough to draw blood. "Let's try this again, shall we?"

It was a relatively short time later that they had the location of the castle, three days hard riding to the north, five if they took their time over it.

"Excellent," said Elyan, "We should be able to make it in two and a half days then, right?"

Gwaine snorted. "You're delusional," he said, "We'll get there in two."

"What do we do with him?" Percival said, poking the bounty hunter with his toe.

Arthur considered him carefully. "You're in luck," he finally said, "Today your bounty is your life. But if your information turns out to be false, we will hunt you down, and we will kill you."

In the end, Elyan was right, and they made the journey in just over two and a half days. The castle, made of black stone and rearing up on the top of a hill, stood out like a rotted, broken bone jutting into the horizon. "What would anyone want with Merlin?" Gwaine said, "The bounty hunter didn't know he was your servant, Arthur."

"No," Arthur said, "But he did know that he could use magic. It was probably enough."

They spent the last few hours before the sunset surveying the castle, and found a relatively unguarded entrance at the back.

"Alright," said Arthur, "Here's the plan. We all enter, and split off in different directions. The goal is to find out if Merlin's here, find out if he's in danger, and if so, get him out. We can deal with any other obstacles if they arise. The number one goal is Merlin. Understood?"

The all nodded.

"We'll go in there," said Arthur, gesturing at their chosen point of entry, "And in an hour's time, we meet back in the clearing. Ready?"

Again, a chorus of nodding heads answered him.

"Alright, then," said Arthur, "Let's go save an idiot."

The route Arthur ended up going took him down a flight of stairs. He had to evade walking guards several times, but he eventually found himself in a dungeon that, like the rest of the castle, was made of black stone and lit by flickering torchlight. It was circular, the cells all lining the walls and facing an inner space. There were manacles dangling from the ceiling, shifting and clinking in a nonexistent breeze. Arthur's heart beat faster with an almost overwhelming sense of dread as he took the place in.

"Merlin?" he whispered, trying to peer into the shadows of the cells, "Merlin, are you in here?"

The sounds of heavy boots against stone echoed from down the corridor. Arthur stepped into one of the empty and unlocked cells and backed into the shadows, as two men came walking in. One, hair dark and oily, pulled out a ring of keys and opened a cell off to the right of Arthur's hiding spot. The other, with a big, bushy beard, stepped inside, and said, "Come on, then, up."

He came out, dragging a painfully thin and pitiful figure with him. The prisoner was covered with bruises and blood, and his clothes were ripped to tatters and shreds. His feet were bound with heavy, gleaming chains that had some sort of ruins scratched into them. The bearded man tossed him to the center of the dungeon where he sprawled, unable to break his fall due to the fact his arms were twisted cruelly behind his back, hands bound with another set of chains, identical to the ones that wound about his ankles. One of his arms, bent oddly, was clearly broken, but still kept bound.

Arthur barely even recognized him until the prisoner opened his eyes, staring almost sightlessly in Arthur's direction.

Merlin.

Arthur almost jumped out and killed the two men, right there. But then they started talking again, and it was only by sheer force of will that Arthur stayed his hand.

"She said we had to take him outta the chains, didn't she?" the dark haired man said, moving closer to Arthur's cell. Arthur pulled back against the wall even further, which, while it hid him, also made it so he couldn't see Merlin anymore.

"Did she?" said the other.

"I think so," said the first, "In order for her binding to work."

"Couldn't hurt, could it? I mean, look at him. He's not going anywhere."

Arthur heard a click, much like a key turning in a lock. There was the sound of metal clattering against the floor. A sort of shiver went around the room. The hair on the back of Arthur's neck, on his arms, stood straight up. Merlin let out a noise that was somewhere between a yelp and a groan, and Arthur thought that if agony was a noise, it would be something close to that.

"What was that?"

"Spelled chains, remember?" the second said, obviously trying to sound confident. "It was…it was probably just the spell releasing. Let's just get the other set off, yeah?"

There was a click – a key turning in a second lock. There was the clacking of a woman's shoes against the stone of the dungeon floor, and a woman's voice angrily demanding, "What are you doing?"

And then the world exploded in a whirling of gold.

When Arthur blinked back in consciousness, the ceiling was gone. Well. More specifically, it was scattered around him on the floor. It was suspiciously silent, until he suddenly heard shouting from not too far away. He stood, and staggered out into where the center of the dungeon had been.

And there was Merlin. Lying in the rubble. Still. Bleeding. Eyes closed. Dead? No. No, Merlin couldn't be dead. Not after all of this. Not now that Arthur had found him. Merlin was not allowed to be dead. Not like this, not thinking that Arthur hated him, had abandoned him, had betrayed him. Arthur's sword slipped from his fingers to clatter against the bits of castle that covered the floor. As soon as the blade struck stone, a shudder ran through Merlin, and he began mumbling a jumble of pleading words.

It was, at the exact same moment, one of the greatest things and one of the worst things that Arthur had ever seen in his life.


	8. Chapter 8

Present day…

"I remember that part," said Merlin, holding up a hand to stop Arthur from talking, "Waking up, I mean."

"I know."

"I was so relieved when I realized it was you," said Merlin, slowly, staring down at the table top, "I had no idea what was going on, but you were there, so I figured it was all going to be okay."

Arthur didn't say anything. His throat hurt from talking. It had taken a while for him to tell the whole story. He'd stopped several times as Merlin would flinch as a memory hit him. "Do I need to stop?" Arthur would ask, and Merlin would shake his head, and Arthur, finding himself unable to deny Merlin anything at this point, would continue on with his narrative.

"Morgause," said Merlin, switching subjects, "She said that I'd promised her something. When she was here before."

"Do you know what?" Arthur asked.

Merlin shrugged. "No. But you said something about a binding –"

"You think that's what it was?"

"I don't know," said Merlin again, "But it seems likely, doesn't it?"

"It does," Arthur agreed. They dropped into an awkward quiet.

"Elias," said Merlin, suddenly.

"Sorry?"

"Elias," Merlin repeated. "I, um. I think the bounty hunter's name was Elias."

"Oh," Arthur said, "Okay."

"And I don't think I was with the outlaws for three weeks."

"Where were you then?"

Merlin frowned. "I don't know," he said. "I don't know, but it doesn't feel right. I wasn't with them for three weeks. There's no way they'd have been able to hold me for that long. I –" he stopped, meeting Arthur's eyes briefly, and then glancing away abruptly.

"Merlin?" Arthur said, and even as he said it he knew that it was useless. He could see the exact moment that Merlin remembered he was supposed to be angry with Arthur. It was like shutters slamming shut behind his eyes, closing off anything that he might have told Arthur.

"I, um," said Merlin, "I think you should go."

Arthur's chest tightened at the words. He nodded, standing. "Right," he said, blinking rapidly. There was no way he was going to cry, not in front of Merlin. He'd done what he could, and if Merlin wanted to not see him anymore, Arthur would respect that. "Right, I understand. I can make sure to find you a different job, a good one, if you'd like. I'll be able to find a different servant. I mean, unless you don't want to be in the castle at all, which I understand, but you should at least wait until we've sorted out everything with Morgause –"

"What?" Merlin said, face screwing up in confusion. "Sorry, but are you sacking me?"

"What? No," said Arthur, curling his lip. "I just didn't think that you'd want to still be my servant, and you just said that I should go, so I assumed – "

"I didn't mean forever," said Merlin, eyes crinkling around the edges. It wasn't a smile, but it was something. "Just for now. I need some time to…to think things over. You've had a bit longer than me to deal with this."

"Oh," said Arthur, and for the first time in years he felt a blush creeping up the back of his neck. "I thought – "

"I realize what you thought, you prat," said Merlin.

"Right, then," said Arthur, turning towards the door, "I'll …I'll go, then. You let me know if you want me to come back. I'll stay away until then."

"I will," Merlin said, and then, "Arthur."

"Yes?" Arthur said, turning, half way out of the room.

"Thank you. For telling me," Merlin said, picking at his blanket, "I know it wasn't easy for you."

"I'll bet you do," said Arthur, and Merlin looked away from him again. Arthur took another step towards leaving, but turned again, "Merlin?"

Merlin hummed slightly, staring at the wall.

"I'm, um," he said, and stopped. Clearing his throat, Arthur said, "I'm glad you're not, you know, dead or anything."

"Yes, I'm rather attached to the idea myself," said Merlin.

Arthur nodded, and pulled the door shut behind him. He was unsurprised to find all four of the knights that had rode to find Merlin, Gwen, and Gaius loitering in the hall, waiting. They all looked up at him, Gwaine climbing stiffly to his feet. "Well?" Gaius asked.

"I told him."

"All of it?" Lancelot said.

"Yes, all of it," said Arthur. He was too tired to push the issue further.

"But we voted," said Elyan, "You voted not to tell him."

"Yes, well, we also live in a monarchy, one I happen to be at the top of," said Arthur, "Voting is just to make you lot feel better about yourselves. Clearly."

"Oh, God," Gwaine moaned, "I liked you better as the silent and guilty type."

"How did it go?" Gwen asked as Gaius walked passed them and into his chambers.

"It…went," said Arthur, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have things I need to see to."

It had been at least a week since the sisters had bought him from Elias the bounty hunter, by Merlin's best estimation. They'd tortured him, beaten him, and hurt him, eyes cold and calculating, never asking anything, only opening their mouths to taunt and mock. They had strung him up in the middle of the dungeon and paced around him like predatory cats, every move measured and aiming to hurt.

But it had been two days since anyone had been in the dungeons. There was nothing but the scratching of rodents' feet against the floor, water dripping somewhere, the clack of his chains and the gasps of his breathing. His magic, penned in and stabbing, seemed to have a noise of its own, a constant buzzing that threatened to drive Merlin mad.

"I don't want to die here," he told the empty dungeon. Curling in on himself, he wrapped his arms around his head and said again, "I don't want to die here."

There was no one coming for him. No one knew where he was. No one was going to save him.

"I don't want to die here, I don't want to die here," he said, again and again, a sob, manic and wild, bursting from his mouth. "I don't want to die here. Please, I don't want to die here, I don't want to die here!"

He kept repeating the words until they faded away inside of a wordless wail, the sound echoing around in the darkness, no one but the stones and the bars and the rats to hear him.

Merlin woke with a jerk, the yell still on his lips. He curled into a ball and sobbed into his pillow. Once the tears started he couldn't get them to stop, and the sobs shook his still sore body painfully. Someone sat him up and put a hand on his shoulder. Merlin, not caring, latched his arms around whoever it was and sobbed into their shoulder. The person just patted his back soothingly and said nothing.

It had been several days since his talk with Arthur, and this nightmare was just one of many. Dark things had been wiggling their way into Merlin's dreams, things that made Merlin dread going to sleep every night. He hadn't told anyone what he dreamed about, about those terrible things that made his hands shake whenever they shot across his minds during the day. They could see the effects, though. Merlin's recovery slowed to a normal speed.

There had been no sign of Morgause, nor clue of what she had been after.

Arthur, meanwhile, stood by his word and didn't come to see him. Merlin was wildly relieved and terribly disappointed. He knew all he would have to do is mention to someone that he'd like to see Arthur and the prince would probably be there before the words were completely out of his mouth. But every time Merlin found the courage, it would wither away just as quickly.

Merlin's cries quieted down to hiccupping breaths. He paused, suddenly realizing that he still had no idea whose shoulder he'd just spent the better part of five minutes crying on. Merlin pulled away and, embarrassed, blinked at them.

Percival stared back at him, face unreadable.

"S-sorry," Merlin said, wiping his eyes with shaking hands. He could feel his face burning. He hated this, the festering and terrible weakness that sat in his stomach, shaming him and needling him.

"I had a little brother. Aglaval," said Percival, after a moment, "He would follow me around everywhere. I would act annoyed and he hurt, but we both knew that I didn't mind. It was the way we were. I wasn't there the day that Cenred's men slaughtered my family, but I was the one who found them lying dead in our house. Aglaval wasn't quite gone yet. He died in my arms."

Merlin said nothing.

"You're no doubt wondering why I'm telling you this," said Percival, "It's because I still dream of it every night. I cry over it almost as often. You need to know, Merlin, that there is no shame in crying. Not when you have something worth mourning."

Merlin could feel tears pressing at the backs of his eyes again. "I was told there was nothing worth my tears," he said.

"Then whoever told you that has never truly lost something," said Percival bluntly.

Merlin swallowed past the large, sticky lump in his throat. "You know," he said, voice rough, desperate to change the subject, "I think this is the most I've ever heard you say at one time."

"Not for lack of trying on your part," said Percival, a grin quirking in the corner of his mouth.

"Erm," said Merlin, "So you've noticed that, have you?"

"Yes," said Percival, and then stopped. He smiled outright.

"And you're not going to make it any easier for me, are you?"

"No."

"You are no fun."

"That's one interpretation," said Percival, humming slightly.

Merlin snorted. Then, growing serious, he swallowed thickly and said, "Thank you, Percival."

The knight just patted his shoulder lightly. It was enough of an answer.

"So Arthur told me everything that happened," said Merlin. It was later in the day, and Gwaine had come in to swap places with Percival. Gaius was somewhere in the lower town, helping a baker's wife with a particularly difficult birth.

"I've heard," said Gwaine. "Did it help at all?"

"Some," said Merlin. Anyone else who would have asked him that would have gotten a glare and a slightly snapped answer. But Gwaine sounded honestly curious, not like he was poking or prodding or hoping. "But it's all sort of floating and I can't quite figure out what goes where."

"Well, then," said Gwaine, "Let's find some papers and some quills and some ink, shall we?"

Merlin cocked his head to the side. "For what?"

"We're going to make two timelines," said Gwaine, digging haphazardly through Gaius's things and straightening with some blank paper and quills and ink clutched to his chest. "One for where we were, and one to put what you remember on. See? Not all floaty for you, then."

He sat down at the table. Merlin leaned over curiously to watch him as he wrote. Gwaine's handwriting was appalling, slanting and blotchy, but Merlin didn't say anything. After all, his writing hand was currently attached to his broken arm, and utterly useless. Gwaine scrawled enthusiastically all over one of the pieces of paper, starting with, 'Princess is a prat' and moving downwards to 'We found Merlin' at the bottom.

"Alright, Merlin," said Gwaine, looking up expectantly with the quill poised to write on the other, "What do you have for me?"

In the end, Merlin's timeline was still much emptier than the knights'. Still, though, there was something encouraging about looking down and seeing the events lined out on paper. Even without his actively remembering it, Merlin could see, scrawled out in front of him, how long he was there, and the basic events that led to and followed it. He didn't tell Gwaine everything that he remembered, of course. But just by looking at the paper in front of him Merlin was able to guesstimate where they had occurred.

"Why did you do that?" Merlin asked, his eyes falling on 'Gwaine is a big, damn hero and goes on quest' on the knights' timeline.

"Do what?"

"Leave like that to come after me," said Merlin, "Why'd you do it?"

"Um," said Gwaine, squinting, as if trying to figure out if Merlin was trying to pull one over on him. "Because no one knew where you were and it was more than a little concerning?"

"But you're a knight," said Merlin, "You can't just go running off like that for no good reason –"

"No good reason?" said Gwaine, "I happen to think that saving the life of a friend is an admirable reason. You're welcome, by the way."

"You could have lost everything," said Merlin, "There are more important things than –"

"I'm going to stop you, Merlin, before you go and say something very, very silly," said Gwaine, holding up a hand, "Because you ought to know that if I heard anyone else saying such depreciating things about you I would probably give them a good kick in the shins. Understand?"

"It's true, though," said Merlin, and he did everything he could to sound like he wasn't pouting, "You could have gotten yourself banished again or something if Uther had found out."

"Do you recall why I got banished the first time?"

Merlin frowned. "Um," he said, "Because you talked back to the king?"

"I believe it was because there were thugs tossing sharp things at your face," said Gwaine, "And this ended up being a similar type situation, didn't it?"

"Still, though," said Merlin.

"I know, I know. It's disgusting, isn't it?" Gwaine said, "It's like I can't stop myself. I'm sure you understand, though, running around and protecting Arthur like you do."

"That's different."

"How so?"

"Arthur's going to be king," Merlin said, "He's important, and there are a million different things that would like to see him dead. I'm just keeping him breathing so that he can be that great king we all keep telling him he's going to be."

"You're important," said Gwaine, "And it seems there are a million and one different things that would see you dead."

"You're missing the point."

"No, Merlin, I'm really not," said Gwaine, "I think that you'll find it's you who is."

Merlin, disagreeing, let the subject drop.

Later that night, he lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He was tired, exhausted, but he couldn't sleep. The room was too quiet, and it put his teeth on edge. Merlin began humming to himself, anything to keep that awful quiet at bay.

Merlin.

He sat up straight, looking around a little wildly. The voice had been in his head, like Kilgarrah's always was, like Mordred's had been. But it belonged to neither Druid nor dragon. It was higher pitched, feminine. "Morgause," he whispered.

Come this way, Merlin.

Feeling like his legs were operating independently from the rest of him, he stood, walking to the door. He peered out cautiously. Gaius was fast asleep on his bed. Merlin, soundlessly, crept through the workroom and stuck his head out into the hall. Elyan, sword in hand, was fast asleep on the floor outside of Gaius' chambers. Merlin crept over him as well.

Merlin!

This was a bad idea. Merlin knew it was a bad idea. But still, he moved through the castle, feeling like a hook had been drawn around him and he was being led inexplicitly onwards. He walked around a corner, and there she was.

"Hello, Merlin," said Morgause.

Merlin stopped, mouth gone dry. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm wondering how you're faring," she said, "Now that you know what your Arthur thinks of you."

"Quite well, actually," said Merlin. "Thanks for asking."

"Interesting," she said.

"I don't think so, actually," said Merlin, "Expected is more accurate."

"Did he tell you how you didn't want to go with him?" Morgause said, "Did he tell you how you brought down my sister and I's castle rather than leave with him, and then he took you anyway?"

"That isn't what happened," said Merlin.

"No?" Morgause said, "And who told you that? Did you remember, or did Arthur tell you?"

"Arthur told me," Merlin said, swallowing back the fear in his throat. "And I trust him much more than I trust you."

"Then you're even more stupid than I realized," she said.

"How did you find me?" Merlin said, changing the subject. "With the bounty hunter. How?"

"Morgana dreamed of you," said Morgause, "And took pity. I was ready to let you rot."

"And yet, you're here," said Merlin. His words sounded much more confident than he felt. "Where is Morgana, anyway?"

"You think I would bring her here and endanger her over you?" Morgause said, "You flatter yourself."

"Why are you here?"

"You intrigue me, Merlin," said Morgana, drawing closer. Merlin moved a step backwards. "As I said, you've promised me something, but you've only delivered half."

"What?" Merlin said.

"You swore an oath in blood," she said, and reached out to grab his arm, her nails digging into his skin. "Remember, Merlin. I know that you know it. Know the moment that you broke and turned your back on the Pendragons."

"Yes," he gasped, "Yes, whatever you want, just, please…I-I-I c-c-c-can't –"

"Then swear to me," Morgause said, "Swear by your blood and body that you will serve me."

"Y-yes."

"Repeat after me," Morgause said, and began to speak in the words of the Old Religion. Merlin repeated them all. Then she nodded at the door, and Morgana walked over, handing her sister a long, ornamental dagger.

"N-no," Merlin said, pulling on the chains though he knew it was useless, "No, you said no more –"

"Shhh," Morgause said, "Just one more."

She drew the blade across his back. Merlin moaned against the sharp and biting pain. Then Morgause pressed something to the cut, and when she drew back, Merlin saw she had a small, glass vial filled with red blood. His blood. He let his eyes flutter shut. Distantly, as if from far off, he could hear both Morgana and Morgause chanting something.

Merlin yanked his arm from her grip. "No," he said, stumbling backwards, "N-no, I wouldn't, I'd never –"

"And yet, you did," said Morgause.

"What did you make me do?"

"It was your choice," she said, shrugging slightly, "You could've said no."

Merlin felt a manic laugh welling in his throat at her words. He just shook his head again, saying, "No."

She grabbed his arm again, "I'm going to let you go again, Merlin," she said, "This wondering, your confusion…it's better than my original plan. I will tear you down for poisoning Morgana, for trying to kill me. I am going to destroy Uther and his son. And you know what, Merlin? I'm going to use you to do it."

"No," Merlin said, trying to pull away and knowing that it was useless. But he wanted to get away, he needed to.

"Run, if you'd like," she said into his ear, "Run as fast as you are able, but you won't be able to escape me, nor Morgana. You are ours, Merlin. Now run. Run away to your prince while you can. Tell him about the bad thing you've done."

She dropped her hand fromhis arm and stepped back. Merlin walked quickly on unsteady legs, completely unaware of where he was headed. He didn't care, as long as it was away from her. He could feel memories pressing in again, of that dungeon and the chains, of Morgause and Morgana whispering spells and torture and agony. Moving helped, the motion of his legs keeping the thoughts of being bound at bay.

Merlin shook his head, and walked faster until he was as close to running as he could get. But it did no good, still, the thoughts of the dungeon pressed in on him, freezing him from the inside out. On his back, the cut that had opened when he'd used his magic throbbed in a painful reminder.

"Good, Merlin," she said, and pushed her fingers through his hair, "You may rest now. We're done, for the moment."

"What of his magic, sister?" Morgana said, anxious as she hovered by the bottom of the stairs. "The spell is different for the magic."

"Patience," said Morgause, "We've promised Merlin a rest."

Merlin gasped, and was surprised to find himself face-to-face with the heavy wooden door that led to Arthur's chambers. Morgause's words – Run away to your prince – rang in his head. He'd come here as if unable to control his own legs.

"Well?" Morgause said, turning to grab his chin in her fingers once again, "I've granted you a reprieve. Where is your gratitude?"

"Th-thank you," he said.

"Much better."

He pulled open the door just in time to hear Arthur's voice thunder, "What do you mean we've lost Merlin?"

"I, um, I don't," Gwaine said, and pointed, "Look! Found him."

Arthur turned. The harsh look on his face disappeared as he took one look at Merlin. "Merlin?"

"I'm sorry," Merlin said, faintly, "I think I've done something bad."


	9. Chapter 9

It was somewhere around midnight that Arthur woke up, someone shaking his shoulder. "G'way, Merlin," he muttered, less than half awake, batting the person's hand away, "M'not ready t'be up, yet."

"That's very nice, Arthur," said Gwaine's voice, "Think it through."

Arthur sat up, glaring at Gwaine.

"Morning," said the knight, "We have a problem."

"What sort of problem?" Arthur asked. The fire in his fireplace was still lit, shedding light over the room. It was amazing how often that sort of thing happened with a competent servant tiptoeing around. Arthur hated it. He stood, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"The sort where Elyan fell asleep in the hall," said Gwaine, "And, um, when he went in to see if everything was all right, Gaius was somewhat the only one in the room."

"What?"

"I mean to say, that we've looked," said Gwaine, shifting, "And there may or may not have been any sign of him –"

"Are you saying that no one knows where Merlin is?" Arthur asked, voice low, dangerous.

Gwaine, in a rare moment of perception, fidgeted nervously from foot to foot. "It's not that we don't know where he is," said Gwaine, "It's just that we've, ah, temporarily misplaced him and are in the process of relocating him, and he may or may not be a bit lost at the moment – "

"What do you mean we've lost Merlin?"

"I, um, I don't," Gwaine said, and pointed, "Look! Found him."

Arthur turned to follow Gwaine's finger. The reprimand for pulling such a stupid vanishing stunt like that was on the tip of his tongue, but one look at his manservant was enough to change his mind. Merlin had his back pressed against the wall next to the door like it was the only thing in the world keeping him standing. "Merlin?"

"I'm sorry," Merlin said, swallowing thickly, "I think I've done something bad."

"What are you talking about?" asked Gwaine. "You look awful."

His eyes were wide, his breathing heavy. "Morgause," he said, spitting out the words like they were hurting him, "She was here again. She, she said…and I remembered…"

"Morgause?" Arthur said, and cursed, "Where? When? Are you alright? Gwaine –"

Sword drawn, Gwaine ran into the hall, saying, "I'm on it."

Arthur began to walk towards Merlin, reaching out to him, but the warlock flinched away. Arthur held up his hands, and said, "I'm not going to hurt you."

Merlin nodded, a faint blush on his cheeks.

"But I need you to focus, and just tell me what happened," said Arthur, "You can sit. Do you want to sit?"

Merlin hesitated, and then nodded again.

"Okay," he said, "Let's just move over this way, then."

He reached out and grabbed hold of Merlin's elbow, towing him over by the chair. Merlin resisted, staying pressed against the wall, but then followed Arthur. He sat and, more than a little bit shaky, rested his forehead on his palm.

"Merlin, I need you to tell me what's happened," said Arthur, "So calm down, focus, and talk to me. What happened?"

And Merlin told him, but then he stopped, and jumped to his feet, pacing, before he got to the end. "She took some of my blood, in the dungeon," said Merlin, "And she…I've…Arthur, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't – "

"You're rambling again," Arthur said, watching him moving back and forth and back again. "I need you to focus. She took your blood? What does that mean? I mean, I know it can't be good."

"I don't know what it means," said Merlin, voice low, "But sh-she made me swear, Arthur, I didn't know what I was doing, I don't think I did, anyway, but I'm sorry, I'm, she made me – "

"Breathe, Merlin," said Arthur, "Focus. What happened?"

"She made me swear to serve her," Merlin whispered, and Arthur could barely hear him, "Her and Morgana, and sh-she m-made me swear in blood."

"What?" Arthur said.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to," Merlin said, and then stopped, looking horrified. "Oh, oh, God."

"Merlin."

"What if I did mean to? What if that's why I don't remember? What if –"

"Merlin," Arthur said, but Merlin just continued to ramble on and on. Arthur just reached forward and grabbed Merlin's shoulders. "Merlin."

Merlin stopped talking.

"You've gone and promised your loyalty to a sorceress. All we can do is deal with it, okay?" said Arthur, "You were hurt and you were scared and you were hopeless, and you had every reason to be. Also, contrary to what you seem to believe, you are not a knight. You have not been trained to deal with this kind of thing. You probably didn't even know what you were agreeing to when you did it. You did what you had to do to stay alive. You aren't to blame for any of this, and you aren't to believe anyone who says differently. Especially not Morgause."

"But," Merlin answered, blinking rapidly, "But that means I've betrayed you, Arthur, that she could make me betray you even further, and, and –"

"And it's my fault you're in this situation in the first place," said Arthur, "Shall we call it even?"

Merlin…stopped. His mouth was hanging open and he blinked at Arthur. It went on for long enough that Arthur became seriously concerned that Merlin had checked out for good this time. And then…then Merlin laughed. And not just a small snort or a chuckle, but a full blown laugh that made his eyes fill with tears and made him tip over slightly, leaning against the table to support his weight and turning red in the face.

It was so unexpected that Arthur found a smile tugging at his own mouth. Soon enough, Arthur was laughing just as hard as Merlin was, doubling over so his hands were on his knees. They both laughed and laughed, even though it wasn't funny. It really, really wasn't. After all, they were laughing about Arthur screaming at Merlin that he would kill him and about Merlin pledging his powers to a dark sorceress who wanted to overthrow the kingdom. But neither of them seemed to be able to stop.

"Oh, my ribs, my ribs," Merlin gasped between laughs. "It hurts."

It just made them howl even more.

Eventually, Arthur got control of himself, wiping at his eyes. Just after that, Merlin's laughter turned to sobbing, with him still leaning against the table. Arthur walked over, and pushed him down onto a chair. Then, standing next to him, Arthur just laid a hand on his shoulder, and waited. He said nothing. After all, there was really nothing for him to say.

Later, shortly after the sun had rose, Arthur had brought Merlin back to Gaius's chambers. There was no sign of Morgause. All of the knights who had gone looking for the warlock were there, along with Gwen and Gaius, listening as Merlin stuttered more than told what happened.

"So, basically," said Gwaine at the end of it, "You are owned by the bitch."

"Witch," said three different voices at the same time, all the same level of practiced monotony.

"Stop doing that," Gwaine snapped, "That's what I said!"

"But not my magic," Merlin said, ignoring them, "She couldn't. The, um, it was the chains."

"Chains?" Arthur said, and his stomach lurched with the word. He remembered them, heavy and harsh, wrapped around Merlin's arms and legs.

"Merlin was held with chains that were enchanted to keep his magic in," said Gaius. Merlin began tapping fingers on the table again, until Gwen reached over and wrapped her fingers around his. "However, they also stopped his magic from being drawn out. In short, she has the physical loyalty of Merlin, but none of the magic."

"The binding that wasn't finished," said Arthur.

"Exactly."

"But why did she need the blood?" Gwen asked, still holding onto Merlin's hand.

"Any number of reasons," said Gaius, "With a supply of Merlin's blood, she and Morgana could do any amount of terrible things. Most enchantments and spells that use blood are a part of very dark, very black magic."

"What do we need to be expecting, though?" said Gwaine, leaning on the back of Merlin's chair. "I mean, what can they do to him?"

"Anything," said Merlin flatly. "Illnesses, pain…they could cook me from the inside out, or freeze me, or –"

"In short," Lancelot said, cutting in, "Very bad things."

Gwen's knuckles were white with the grip she kept clutched around Merlin's hand. "So what can we do?" she said.

"Kilgarrah," said Gaius, and Merlin tensed. The old man glanced at him apologetically before continuing, "I didn't want to bring it up before because I didn't think you had the strength to ride out to meet him. Now, though..."

"Who's Kilgarrah?" asked Arthur. He looked over at Lancelot, who, abandoning their feud for the moment, shrugged in equal confusion.

"A long story," said Merlin, "Gaius, shouldn't we talk about this later? When there's less – later?"

"They know about the magic, Merlin, I hardly think that now is the time to keep secrets," said Gaius, "Besides, it isn't like they're going to let you ride out into the forest at night with no one but an old man for company."

"Wait, wait," said Arthur, "Merlin isn't riding out into the forest at all, even with a full battalion with him. Whoever this Kilgarrah is, he can just as easily be brought here."

"Not as easy as you'd think," said Merlin, a small grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. Gaius looked equally amused. "He's, uh, he's a bit noticeable."

"Is he," said Arthur, and stopped, "I assume he uses magic, like you do."

"In a manner of speaking," said Merlin. "But –"

"And," Arthur continued, cutting him off, "Based off of how you're

"Not exactly," said Merlin, eyes twitching anywhere but Arthur's face, "He's been presumed dead for several years now, and for him to just…appear would probably cause something of a stir."

Gaius snorted.

"Merlin, really," Arthur said, rolling his eyes, "It doesn't matter how memorable this person is. I will do everything in my power to sneak him here. Anything's better than sending you, out into the forest. At night."

"You may want to know what you're promising to do," Gaius said, "Before you go swearing things like that."

"I would," said Arthur, close to yelling, "If either of you would tell me anything about what's going on and who Kilgarrah is!"

"Kilgarrah's the Great Dragon," said Merlin, all signs of levity gone, voice so soft that Arthur almost missed it. He stared down at the table in front of him, "The one I told you that you killed."

"See? I told you it wouldn't be a problem to sneak him…in…here…oh," Arthur said, Merlin's words getting through to him. "Oh, I, um – What?"

"Oh, dear," said Gwaine, "I think you've broke his brain, Merlin."

"The great what?"

"So…smuggling him in is out, then," said Lancelot.

"What?"

"How does one go about finding a dragon?" asked Elyan.

"There's really only one failsafe way," said Gaius, "A Dragonlord calls him."

"But the last Dragonlord is dead," said Arthur. His thoughts were still banging around his head incoherently.

"That's what you would've said about the dragon five minutes ago," pointed out Percival.

"There's another Dragonlord? Who? Where?" he said, very close to yelling. Then, his eyes landed on Merlin, still staring resolutely down at the tabletop. "You?"

"A bit, yes," said Merlin. Gwen had yet to release her grip, even though she had gotten pale and was staring at Merlin like she had never seen him before. But then he pulled his hand away and stood up. They all pretended not to be watching him closely, should he stumble or fall. "Look, it doesn't even matter, because it probably won't work anyway."

"Why do you say that?" said Gwaine.

"My, um," Merlin stopped.

"His magic hasn't been working," finished Gaius for him, "Not since he was returned here. But I think that we should at least try, Merlin. Dragonlord powers aren't connected to the rest of your magic, you know that."

"Yes, but," he trailed off, biting his lower lip nervously, "But –"

"We'll ride out when the sun goes down," said Arthur, cutting in, "Elyan and Percival, I need you to stay here in case my father notices I've gone. Get Leon to help you. Gwen, it's probably best that you stay here as well."

She nodded. Gwaine, meanwhile, slapped Merlin on the shoulder. "Don't worry, Merlin, we'll talk to this dragon, get your blood back from Arthur's sister and her sister, and then you'll be right as rain and won't have to worry about being unexpectedly broiled," said Gwaine, and then paused, tilting his head to the side, "…Which is not a sentence that I ever thought I'd say."

So it was that the following night found Lancelot, Gwaine, Gaius, Arthur, and Merlin riding out into the woods to talk with the dragon. When Merlin called out to it, it made the hair on the back of Arthur's neck stand on end. He tried to tell himself he was being ridiculous – he'd known Merlin had magic, after all. But still, seeing the actual thing happen in front of him was a new matter entirely.

Had Merlin been the one that had let the dragon free? Why had he let it go afterwards? Arthur wanted to ask, but he didn't want to break the tenuous and fragile trust that Merlin had held out to him by seeking out Arthur after the incident with Morgause. There was also the way that Lancelot kept glaring at him, keeping his horse between Arthur and Merlin's at all times as if daring the prince to try something.

"I'm telling you," Merlin was saying, now, "This isn't going to work."

"I disagree," said Lancelot.

"Do you?" Merlin said, looking over at the knight, "And what makes you such an expert?"

Wordlessly, Lancelot pointed. The dragon was dropping down towards the clearing. Arthur stumbled backwards a step. He'd forgotten how big the beast was. No, not beast. Kilgarrah. The dragon. Who Arthur had not killed.

"I warned you, young warlock," said Kilgarrah, as soon as he was on the ground, ignoring all of the others, "I told you that only terrible things would come of this."

"Did you?" said Merlin, frowning, "When? The last time I talked to you was when Morgana took the city."

"Do not play games with me," the dragon hissed, "You were very rude to me then, and if this is some kind of human joke, consider me completely unamused."

"He isn't joking," Arthur said, before he had time to consider the consequences of talking back to a dragon. He moved to stand next to Merlin. "He doesn't remember."

The dragon lowered his head to stare solidly at Merlin. "You don't, do you?" he said. Arthur was taken aback at the new gentle tone that the dragon began to talk with. It almost sounded like the beast was worried about Merlin. Arthur had to choke back a laugh – he had been right in thinking that everyone worried about Merlin, even dragons worried about Merlin.

Merlin shook his head. "Some," he said, "It comes back in pieces."

"The witches did this to you?" Kilgarrah said.

Merlin shrugged. "They hurt me, yes," he said, "But I think that the memory thing is me. Is there anything you can tell me?"

"Perhaps," said the dragon, "Some months past you called me here. You said that you had been banished from the city. That Arthur Pendragon had spurned you from Camelot in hatred. Now concentrate. What did I tell you?"

Arthur felt a burning mixture of anger and terrible, terrible guilt stirring in his stomach. "We already told you, he doesn't –"

"A half can't truly hate that which makes it whole," Merlin said softly. "Wasn't it?"

"It was," said Kilgarrah. Arthur shut his mouth with a click. The dragon continued, "And you still insisted that the opposite was true, and that I take you from here."

"I was with you," said Merlin, "Those first three weeks?"

"First week and some days," Kilgarrah said.

Merlin shut his eyes, brow creased in concentration. "I…I left. I was annoyed," he said, opening his eyes. "Why was I so annoyed?"

"Because you refused to listen to me," the dragon said, "I told you, time and time again, that your staying away from Camelot and denying your destiny would only lead to terrible things. You didn't believe me. And you were very rude to me."

"What did I do?" Merlin asked.

"You called me a cantankerous, pandering old lizard, informed me you've met rocks who possessed greater clarity than I, and proceeded to storm away," Kilgarrah said, sniffing slightly, "I do not appreciate being insulted in such a manner."

Gwaine snorted. Kilgarrah glared. The knight shifted slightly from foot to foot, and said, "I'm sorry, it's just…it's funny."

Kilgarrah continued to glare.

"Shutting up," said Gwaine, clearing his throat awkwardly. Lancelot and Gaius both stayed perfectly silent.

"I warned you, Merlin," said Kilgarrah, "I warned you that only bad would come of it."

"What good is a warning that I don't remember?" Merlin asked.

"You denied your destiny," Kilgarrah said, "By leaving Camelot you brought this on yourself –"

"Hey," Arthur snarled, drawing his sword before he had time to think his actions through, "None of this is Merlin's fault."

"You are just as much to blame, Arthur Pendragon," said Kilgarrah, turning his vicious gaze on Arthur, "You both are. You almost ruined everything, and I while I feel for you, Merlin, for your current condition, I take no responsibility. Look to yourselves for that."

Arthur glanced over at Merlin. He was staring down at the ground intently, good hand clenched in a fist. "What about my magic?" Merlin said, "Is it not working my fault as well?"

"You were able to call me here," said Kilgarrah, "Your magic is still there."

"But why won't it work?"

"I assume the witches used some sort of spell or enchantment to keep you from your magic, did they not?"

"They did," said Merlin, "Chains."

"Then it is a rather simple answer," said Kilgarrah, "Your magic has been as abused as the rest of you. Give it time to heal and regain its strength. It will return eventually. But if you try to push it, it will only make things worse. I'm telling you this in the hope that you listen to me for once, Merlin. However, I doubt that is the case."

Merlin went back to staring at his boots like they were the most captivating thing that he had ever seen.

"Right, well, as informative as this has been," said Gwaine, apparently forgetting he was supposed to be in a state of 'shutting up', "When is someone going to ask what we do about the blood situation?"

This led to Merlin shifting awkwardly from foot to foot and telling the dragon about Morgana and Morgause's taking of his blood.

"You must get it away from them," said Kilgarrah, "That's all there is to it."

"But what if we can't?" Merlin said.

"Then I have no doubt that they will find a way to manipulate your magic as well," said the dragon, "And Camelot will fall by the end of the week. You do not have a choice. Stop the witches and fix your mistakes, or pay your dues."

"How do we get the blood back?"

"I can't do everything for you, Merlin," Kilgarrah said, "You are the one who knocked your destiny awry. You have to be the ones to fix it."

"Isn't there some sort of protection that you can give him?" Arthur asked, "Some sort of, I don't know, spell or something?"

"They have his blood," said the dragon, "They have a part of him. There is nothing that I can do. I'm sorry."

He unfurled his wings, and stared at Merlin, as if daring him to say otherwise and stop him from leaving. Then, when Merlin said nothing, he gave an almighty flap and disappeared into the night. None of the assembled people spoke.

"Correct me if I'm wrong," said Gwaine, breaking the silence, "But I don't think that he meant that apology."


	10. Chapter 10

Upon arriving back at the castle, Lancelot took the horses while Gwaine, Merlin, Arthur and Gaius walked slowly and silently towards the physician's chambers. They were about half of the way there that a young girl came rushing up to them, telling the four that Gaius was needed urgently down in the lower town. The physician – his bag with him, in case of emergency while on the trek to talk to Kilgarrah – had allowed himself to be led off by the girl, telling Merlin sternly to get some rest. Merlin didn't answer, save to nod shortly.

It left Arthur, Gwaine, and Merlin to walk the rest of the way to the room. Upon reaching the hall just outside their destination, Merlin stopped and looked at Gwaine and Arthur.

"Well," said Merlin, speaking for the first time since the dragon had left. "I think I'll be fine on my own from here, thanks."

Arthur snorted slightly, and said, "No."

"I'll be fine," said Merlin, "I just want to be alone for a bit."

"I don't know if you've noticed, Merlin, but you're somewhat in danger," said Arthur, "So give me one good reason why I would let you be al –"

"Because I don't want to talk to anyone right now," Merlin snapped.

Arthur paused. Merlin blinked, looking like he very much wanted to take the words back. But then the warlock cleared his throat, and squared his shoulders ever so slightly. Gwaine hung back, eyes twitching uncertainly from Merlin to Arthur and back again. Arthur knew he should walk away, send Merlin off to bed and leave Gwaine to stand watch. But he couldn't just let it go.

He had made a mistake, sending Merlin away. He knew that. He was ready to spend years repaying his actions from that day. But it didn't change the fact that Merlin had lied, and that it hurt. Arthur understood the lying over the magic – really, he did. After all, that was a life-or-death situation. Merlin, though…Merlin had lied about the dragon. And if he'd lied over that, what other things had he let run free through Camelot out of some sort of misplaced sense of kinship? Arthur could accept that magic wasn't all evil – but that dragon had killed so many citizens of Camelot, rained fire and death down upon the city, upon the people that Arthur had sworn to protect. And Merlin had just let it go.

Arthur knew he should turn around and go off in the opposite direction. He should leave. Now. Before he did something he would regret.

"That dragon," said Arthur, instead, letting his anger get the better of him, "It has to do anything you say, doesn't it? Because you're a Dragonlord."

"Leave me alone," Merlin said, taking a few steps towards the door.

"No," Arthur said, following, "You've a dragon at your disposal. A dragon. Why didn't you use him to escape from Morgana and Morgause? Or the bounty hunter?"

"I don't know."

"Listen, you two," said Gwaine, "We've all had a long night, and we should all just take a moment to –"

"You remembered that thing the dragon told you about," said Arthur, "You remembered it as soon as he asked you to think of it. Why couldn't you when we asked? Why can't you just do that now?'"

"I. Don't. Know," Merlin said, "I don't know, Arthur, I thought that we'd established that. I don't know why I couldn't get away, I don't know anything. Leave it."

"Yes," Gwaine said, "Let's leave it. That sounds like a lovely idea."

"No," said Arthur, ignoring the knight, "I think you're remembering more than you're letting on."

"I don't."

"You're lying," Arthur said, "You aren't saying something, aren't telling us something. I will have the truth, Merlin."

"Or what?" Merlin said, smiling humorously, the expression closer to a snarl than anything else, "Are you going to scream at me like your father did? Or maybe you'll throw me in the dungeons, like your sister. All three Pendragons, all in a row. Aren't I the lucky one?"

"That's enough of this. You're both tired and things are starting to get ugly," said Gwaine, again trying and failing to intervene, "Why don't we –"

"Don't," growled Arthur, "Do not lump me in with her. Now talk, Merlin. You're lying to me."

"I'm not."

"Yes, you are," Arthur said, taking a step closer. There was a flash of something in Merlin's eyes, but he didn't back away. So, neither did Arthur. "You're lying. You're doing that eye twitching thing you do when you're lying. Why didn't you –"

"What do you want from me, Arthur? Do you want me to tell you about how they beat me and whipped me and hurt me but didn't want to know anything? That there was absolutely nothing I could do, or say to get them to stop? Do you want me to tell you how Morgause snapped my arm and hung me from a wall for two hours? No? How about when they left me alone down there for four days except to bring me water twice and let me know how long I'd been down there, how long I'd been stuck and forgotten about and doomed? And one of those two times it was just to toss the water in my face and tell me to lick it off of the floor? It was so dark when they'd leave with their torches that I couldn't even see my hand in front of my face, and the only sounds were the rats and the chains."

"Merlin –"

"Do you want me to tell you about how I begged your sister to kill me? I did. I did, and she didn't, and I hated her for that, hated her for that more than any of the other things she's done. I tried to call Kilgarrah, Arthur, but it didn't work, not in the dungeon. It didn't work because those chains kept my magic and everything to do with my magic in until I felt like I was going to burst into flames, until I hoped that I would. I don't know what happened with the bounty hunter. They've taken everything away from me, and all I have left is my magic which, in case you were wondering, still is refusing to work for me. I'm scared of the dark. Quiet makes me want to bash my head against a wall and scream until it isn't quiet ever again. I barely feel like me anymore, Arthur. Do you think I wanted any of this? Do you think that I let them do all of that? Is that what you want me to say? Is it?"

"Merlin," Arthur said, and stopped, at a loss. "Merlin – "

"Don't," Merlin said, pushing past him to walk away.

"Wait," said Arthur, starting after him.

"I said don't," Merlin said, not raising his voice, not shouting. He yanked open the door and, disappearing within the room, slammed it shut behind him again.

"What the hell, Arthur?" Gwaine growled after a long, tense, silent moment, "I – you – he – what the hell?"

"I didn't mean for that to happen," said Arthur, "I didn't."

"Story of your life as of late," said Gwaine.

Arthur moved towards the closed door. "I'll go and talk to him."

"Do what he wants, Arthur, for once in your life," said Gwaine, pulling him away and walking forward, "Leave him alone."

Then Gwaine, like Merlin before him, walked through the door. But, before he pulled it shut, the knight gave Arthur a look that almost sent the prince stumbling backwards. "I want you to know," he said, "That I'm quite angry with you now."

Then he shut the door forcefully, leaving Arthur alone in the hall with nothing but the echoes.

Arthur spent the next handful of days avoiding Merlin as much as possible. It was easy, at first. But then Gaius went and ruined it, declaring Merlin fit to return to some of his duties, at least the ones that didn't require too much strenuous activity. He still tired easily, still had one arm strapped down in the sling. When Arthur saw him, he was always accompanied by one of the knights or two or more servants. Arthur didn't approach, and stayed away. It wasn't due to Merlin's wishes, but rather from the unpleasant sort of crawling that filled Arthur's stomach every time he laid eyes on Merlin.

"I don't think that he should be up yet," said Arthur one evening to Gwen, "It could be dangerous."

"From what Gaius said, it isn't going to matter where he is if they decide to use the blood," said Gwen quietly, "And – Arthur, we couldn't bear to see him like that any longer. It was a major accomplishment to get him out of his bed. Gaius had to all but force him out of the room."

"Wasn't he doing better?"

"Yes, before –" Gwen said, and cut herself off. Arthur didn't need her to finish, though, because he knew where she had been headed. Before you pushed him into flipping out like that.

Gwaine, meanwhile, had joined Lancelot in his grudge-holding against Arthur. It wasn't that either of them were openly hostile or insubordinate. They simply ignored Arthur unless forced into interacting with him. Arthur almost wished that they'd just out and yell at him, or challenge him, or frog-march him into Merlin's room and throw everything out onto the table, or something. They didn't, though. So it was that, just to get their glares off the back of his head, Arthur sent the two of them out most frequently on the unofficial patrols to comb the woods for any trace of Morgause.

They returned empty handed every time. As a result, they made no headway in reclaiming Merlin's blood. Still, though, as Elyan pointed out, Morgause hadn't use the blood in any sort of attack yet either. The waiting was threatening to drive Arthur mad. He could only imagine what it was doing to Merlin.

Merlin.

"I think I need to talk to Merlin," Arthur said to Gwen, later, "Do you think that's a good idea?"

"I think," Gwen said, "That you don't really have any other options at this point."

"Do you know who is guarding him tonight?"

Gwen smiled a small, apologetic grin. "Gwaine," she said.

Arthur let out a breath through his nose, and ran a hand through his hair, "Wonderful. Maybe I should wait until tomorrow."

"Tomorrow never comes, Arthur," she said, pushing him gently, "Go on, off with you."

With heavy steps he walked the halls of the castle to Gaius's chambers. He paused outside the door for a moment, and with a bracing breath he pushed open the door.

Even with Gwen's words about Merlin's recent behavior, Arthur expected to find Gwaine and Merlin sitting at the table. He expected to find the two of them chuckling at something that, apparently, made perfect sense to the pair but was complete nonsense to the rest of the world. He expected to be met with a glare from Gwaine and an unreadable, darting glance from Merlin. He expected to have to argue with Gwaine to get a moment to talk to Merlin. He didn't know what he expected after that point, but he figured it was going to be awkward and uncomfortable.

None of that happened. He found nothing that he expected within the room.

What Arthur found when he opened the door was Merlin, standing rigidly by the table. Someone – Gwaine, Arthur realized distantly – was locked in Merlin's small room, ramming against the door and shouting to be let out. Merlin looked up as Arthur moved towards the center of the room. "Arthur," he said, "Arthur, get out of –"

"Quiet, Merlin," said a woman's voice from behind Arthur, and the door slammed shut. Merlin stopped talking, but he had a sort of manic expression pasted across his face, equal parts panic and anger. Arthur turned. The only surprise that Arthur felt was that it was not Morgause standing there, but rather Morgana.

"Hello, Arthur," she said, "I guess that will teach me to forget to lock the door, won't it?"

Arthur reached for his sword, thanking whatever higher power was listening that he'd brought it with him. But Morgana just smirked, and held out her hand, and chain dangling from her fingers. At the end of the chain was a glass vial, small black designs decorating it. "Ah, ah," she said. The vial was filled with a deep red liquid. Blood, Arthur realized. Merlin's blood.

Arthur pulled his hand away from the sword hilt.

"If you would be so kind as to put your sword off to the side," she said. Arthur drew the blade, and, hesitating only long enough to glance over at Merlin – who still wasn't doing anything but standing there with that rattled, half-mad expression – and tossed it to his right. It clattered and skittered across the floor.

"And that knife you keep in your boot," said Morgana, "Place it on the table."

Arthur did as she asked, backing away. "Morgana," he said, "What do you want?"

"I want to show you something," she said, "I was only going to show Merlin, but…well. An audience always improves things. Besides, this is just as much about you as it is about him."

"What are you talking about?" Arthur said.

"Sit down, Merlin," said Morgana, holding the vial in the palm of her hand. Merlin sat. "Now, stand back up." Merlin stood. "Sit again."

"Merlin, what are you doing?" Arthur said, staring wide-eyed at his servant. Gwaine continued to try and beat down the door, out of sight but making his presence known loudly.

"Stand again, Merlin."

Merlin stood.

"Stop listening to her," Arthur said.

"I can't," Merlin said, voice shaking, "I have to – I can't."

Arthur's eyes landed, once again, on the vial of Merlin's blood. Gaius's words about magic using blood being dark and terrible pulled through Arthur's mind.

"You see, Arthur?" she said, "You're not the only Pendragon your pet sorcerer obeys. Anything I say, anything at all, and he'll do it. No matter what it is. He doesn't have a choice about it."

Arthur could only stare at her.

"Would you like further demonstration? Merlin, be a dear and pick up Arthur's knife," Morgana said, tapping one, long nail against the side of the vial.

Merlin, fingers quivering, reached over, and closed his hand around the hilt of the blade.

"What shall I have him do now, Arthur?" Morgana asked, "I could have him try and stab you, or Guinevere, or one of your precious knights..."

"Morgana, stop it," said Arthur.

"Or, oh. I know," she said, smirking, "Merlin, why don't you go ahead and press that blade right up against your own throat?"

Merlin, breath hitching, did as he was bid, laying the knife against his neck.

"I said stop," said Arthur, too taken by surprise, too completely terrified to move. What if he did, and Morgana made Merlin - no. He couldn't think of things like that. "Stop this, now."

"A bit more pressure, I think, so Arthur knows who the one giving the orders is," said Morgana.

A drop of blood ran down Merlin's neck, a scarlet line that stood out in stark contrast to Merlin's skin. A strangled gasp escaped from his mouth. The sweat beaded on his forehead.

"Morgana," Arthur said, "Don't. Please."

"Please?" she said. "My, my, Arthur. Are you begging?"

Arthur licked his lips, and looked over at Merlin again. He had his eyes clenched shut, and was breathing harshly through his nose. "Yes," Arthur said, looking back to Morgana, "Yes, Morgana, I'm begging you. Leave Merlin alone. You've put him…He's been through enough. Please. Leave Merlin be. Do whatever you want with me, but let Merlin go. Let him go."

Morgana just gaped at him. "You know Merlin has magic, though," she said, "He has magic."

"Yes."

"And still you're pleading for his life?"

"Yes."

"Why?" she spat, hands clenching to fists, "Why have you forsaken me but not him?"

"That isn't because of your magic, Morgana," said Arthur, "It was never because of your magic, not to me. You took my kingdom, you imprisoned my…our father. You killed so many of Camelot's citizens. Everything that happens between us is because of what you've done."

"Merlin tried to murder me," she said, and from the corner of his eye Arthur saw Merlin flinch, "He tried to poison me. Before any of that. Did you know that about your precious servant?"

"No," said Arthur, "No, I didn't. But, really, can you blame him? Look at what you're doing. Stop and look."

Morgana didn't say anything, but only stared at Arthur, mouth opening and closing slightly like she wanted to.

"Morgana," said Arthur, holding out his hand, "Morgana, please. Give me the blood."

Her fingers spasmed around the vial, and for an insane, dizzying second Arthur actually thought that she might hand it over. But then she drew her hand to her chest, closing it in a fist around the vial. "No," she said, eyes glittering, "I won't. I've done what I came for. I won't give you anything."

Arthur, feeling the moment slipping away, took a cautious step forward, hands raised in surrender, and said, "Give me the –"

"No!" she shrieked, and vanished with a rushing wind. As soon as she faded from sight, Merlin let out a ragged gasp, arms dropping to swing at his sides. Gwaine came barreling into the room, the door banging off of the wall. He looked around wildly and, seeing no sign of Morgana, sheathed his sword. Arthur couldn't bring himself to move, and stood immobile, his hands still raised in front of him. He just stared at Merlin, who stared back. There was a cut on his neck, a little trail of blood disappearing beneath his shirt.

The knife clattered to the floor, dropped from Merlin's fingers. Merlin's knees buckled and he followed it downwards. Gwaine dove forward and caught Merlin under the arms and lowered him down, holding onto him. "Merlin, Merlin," he said, "Talk to me, my friend, come on now."

"I can't do this," Merlin moaned, and started babbling, "I can't, I can't do this, I can't, I - "

"You can," said Arthur, his mind kicking back alive as he squatted down so that his face was even with Merlin's. He left the knife lying on the floor, and made a mental note to get a new one. There was no way in heaven or hell that he would ever touch that weapon again. He continued, "You can, because – Merlin, are you listening to me? I need you to listen to me."

Merlin nodded against Gwaine's shoulder.

"You can do this, because you are better than them. You're stronger than them. Hey, you're not listening. Pay attention to me, Merlin," said Arthur, "You have us, and not only can we beat them, but we're going to. That's all there is to it. Got it?"

Merlin nodded again.

"We lost you once, Merlin," said Arthur, "I will not allow it to happen again. Gwaine, stay with him. I'll send Gaius along."

"Where are you going?"

Arthur paused. "I'm," he said, and stopped. Did he want to do what he was about to do? Better question – Did he even really have a choice? The answer to both, unfortunately, was no. So Arthur took a deep breath, and said, "I'm going to go and talk to my father."


	11. Chapter 11

"You were right, Father."

Arthur kept his hands clasped behind his back to keep them from shaking. He was tired, and strung out, and he had no idea if this plan of his was going to work. It was a last ditch effort, but Arthur couldn't think of any other options. He had thought that the knights would be enough to keep Merlin safe after Morgause had appeared the first time, but now – now Merlin had been gotten at three times. Enough was enough. They needed help.

Uther glanced up from his work. "About?"

"About my manservant, Merlin," said Arthur, "You were right. Mor – the witches sought to use him against us."

Standing, Uther walked a few steps closer. "And?"

Arthur paused for barely a second. This was where things would start getting tricky, and more than a little dangerous, especially for Merlin. He hoped that his father was having one of his more stable days. "And," said Arthur, "While they were holding him, they forcibly took some of his blood. Using that blood, they've cast a spell on him. However, I cannot stress enough how Merlin was not a willing participant in any of this."

"I see," said Uther, eyes narrowing slightly. It made Arthur nervous. "How is it that you came to know this?"

"Two ways," said Arthur, "First, Merlin remembered them taking his blood. We didn't know what it implied, but Gaius looked into it and found several possibilities, none of which are very pleasant. Then," Arthur paused, swallowing slightly. But he'd already started, and couldn't back out now. "Last night, I arrived in Gaius's chambers and Morgana was there."

Uther froze, still as a statue. Only his eyes moved to fix on Arthur. "She was here?" he said.

"Yes," Arthur said, "And –"

"She was here," Uther repeated, but no longer was it a question, "She was here, and you allowed her to escape."

"She used magic to get away, Father," said Arthur, "There was nothing we could do."

Uther was silent. His jaw was clenched, his hands in fists. "Why did she come here?" he said, and Arthur could hear the effort it was taking the king to keep his voice even, calm. He was somewhat impressed – his earlier words about the council had apparently had more of an effect than he'd realized.

"She was after my servant, Merlin," said Arthur, "Which is why I'm here now."

He went on to explain about the situation, editing out anything to do with Merlin's magic. He told Uther that Morgana and Morgause sought to use Merlin as a weapon within the castle. It was plausible enough, even without Merlin being a warlock or whatever it was. After all, as the manservant to the Crown Prince, Merlin had access to things – to Arthur – that other servants could only get at through their wildest dreams. Uther remained somewhat rigid, but began to relax, anger replaced by a look of calculation, thoughtfulness.

"We cannot allow him to stay where he is," said Uther, once Arthur had finished, "It is too dangerous."

"My thoughts exactly," said Arthur, "However, I must demand that he not be put in the dungeons. It would be –"

"The dungeons?" said Uther, looking honestly lost for a moment. "Why would we put him in the dungeons? Arthur, your manservant isn't a criminal. He is a victim. He is walking proof of the danger and manipulation that magic contains. I hardly think locking him in a cell is necessary. We will have to keep him confined to a room, of course, as well as under a constant guard. After all, I've born witness to his, ah, attempts at combat. Our men will be able to handle him. Would the room at the top of the west tower suffice, do you think?"

Arthur had been expecting a fight, and sputtered, trying and failing to formulate a response. "Tower?" he finally managed.

"Yes. After all, we can hardly leave him with Gaius, what with all of those potions and possibly dangerous concoctions lying about," said Uther, "We don't use that tower for much, so it will be isolated as well as easily defendable should she…should anyone make a bid for the boy."

Arthur gaped. Uther was taking Merlin's welfare into account? Arthur had half a mind to draw his sword and demand when this doppelganger had slipped in and replaced his father.

"And, in the event that he turns on us, it will be difficult for him to make an escape, as well as much simpler for us to subdue him. Cleaner, I would think, out of the way like that," Uther continued. Arthur's suspicions over a possible imposter disappeared – this sounded much more like his father. Uther cracked his knuckles idly, and said, "Yes, I think the west tower will do nicely. What are you doing about finding…the witches?"

"I'm sending out patrols as we speak," said Arthur, "But –"

"Take as many men as you need," said Uther, "In the meantime, we will prepare here should she come for your servant again. We cannot allow her to escape, Arthur."

"Yes, Father," said Arthur, and bowed.

Merlin was laying on his bed and pretending to be asleep when they came for him. He could hear the door to Gaius's chambers open, and the sound of multiple pairs of feet walking in. "Sir Leon," Gaius said, voice carrying in from the main room through the slightly ajar door, "I wish I could say I was happy to see you."

"I'm sorry," said Leon, "I need to take Merlin with me."

"I know," said Gaius, sounding sad and tired and very, very old, "May I at least know where you're taking him?"

"West tower," said Leon, "At the top."

"Not the dungeons, then."

"No."

Gaius let out a sigh of relief. Merlin pulled the blanket up over his head, and hoped that they'd go away. "Thank goodness," said the physician, "I had feared that – but never mind. I suppose it doesn't matter now."

"I am sorry," Leon repeated, "But we have to move him, by order of the king."

"Let me wake him," said Gaius, "And if I could perhaps have a moment…?"

"Take whatever time you need," said Leon, "We'll wait here."

Merlin pushed himself up, setting his chin on his knees. Gaius's footsteps creaked up the stairs, and he walked into the sideroom, shutting the door behind him. Merlin looked up at him. Neither said anything for several long, silent seconds. "I have to leave," Merlin said, breaking the quiet, "Don't I?"

"Yes."

"Am I," said Merlin, and swallowing thickly, "Am I under arrest?"

"No," said Gaius, dropping his voice quieter, "Uther knows nothing of your magic. You're being moved for your own protection as well. That's why Arthur went to Uther, I think. We can't keep you safe, not by ourselves."

Merlin nodded, ignoring the small scratch on his neck. He refused to think about the night before, refused to, or the panic would set in, and – he stopped himself, taking a deep breath. "Gaius," he said, "If Morgana and Morgause make me –"

"Shush, Merlin," said Gaius, "They won't."

"But if they do," Merlin pressed, "You have to stop me. The others – I don't know if they will. You'll have to –"

"Merlin, stop," said Gaius, "None of that. I – no. We need to gather your things. I've some books I'm sending with you to occupy your time. I'll send more up if you need them. I don't know if my knees will be able to make it up all those steps, so –"

"So I won't be seeing you," said Merlin.

"Not until this is over," said Gaius, "No, most likely not."

"Gaius," Merlin said, forcing his eyes shut and turning his head away, "I'm scared. I'm really scared."

Gaius squeezed his shoulder. "I know, my boy," he said, "But you must have faith that everything will work out."

They sat there for a while, and then Merlin was pulled to his feet and handed his bag filled with clothes, two books, and a small carving of a dragon. They walked out where Leon was waiting with four guards. The knight smiled thinly at him while the guards just shifted a bit nervously.

"Goodbye, Merlin," said Gaius, and Merlin wished that he hadn't noticed the small shake in his guardian's words, "But only for now."

Merlin nodded, and for a moment he was unable to find any words. "Bye, Gaius," he finally managed, and the door shut between them. A heavy hand landed on Merlin's shoulder, and he couldn't help but pull away with a startled gasp. The other guards moved forward, Leon stopped them with a wave of his hand.

"No one lays a hand on him," the knight said.

"But we were told that he was a possible danger," said one of the guards, shifting some more, "That he was enchanted –"

"Merlin is a trusted member of the household," said Leon, a deceptively casual hand resting on the hilt of his sword, "If he doesn't want you to touch him, you don't. And give him space, or Prince Arthur will hear of it."

They all backed away, keeping about a foot between themselves and Merlin. Leon nodded in approval, and led the way. By the time they reached what was to be Merlin's room for the foreseeable future, Merlin was breathing heavily. The stairs had winded him more than any other of his excursions around the castle. Most of the guards stayed outside, but Leon and one of them walked into the circular room behind Merlin.

"This is where I leave you, then," said Leon, "We leave one man in here with you, and three out in the hall."

Merlin nodded, and then said quietly, "Thank you. With the guards before. I – thanks."

Leon grinned slightly. "They get a bit excited sometimes," he said. "All you have to do is nudge them back into place. And if any of these guards do anything to make you uncomfortable, let someone know. We'll be sending people up to sit with you whenever we can."

Merlin bit back the response that their very presence made him uncomfortable, and nodded. Then, Leon left, leaving Merlin alone with the guard. The door shut behind the knight, and instantly the guard locked it from the inside. From the other side, there was the sound of at least three locks sliding into place.

Merlin looked around his new "quarters". The tower room was sparse, the only furniture being a bed, a bench beneath the window, and a table. Gaius had sent a stack of books with him as well. It was well lit, and much larger than Merlin's side room off of Gaius's chambers. Merlin could hear the sounds of Camelot going about it's day drifting up and in the window.

With a shaky sigh, he sat down on the edge of the bed. He didn't like it here. A prison was a prison, after all. No matter how pleasant. He glanced over at the guard, who was standing against the wall. Merlin propped his elbow on his knee and ground the heel of his hand against an eye. He felt numb, distant and detached. Ever since Morgana. Any semblance of having control was gone, and Merlin wasn't under any illusions about that.

He bit his bottom lip slightly, and pretended that he didn't want to cry.

Two days passed. The knights were only allowed in if they were in chainmail and carried their swords. Gwen wasn't admitted at all, Lancelot told him, and she had apparently yelled at Arthur over it. Which led to Arthur bringing her up with the intentions that, logically, Gwen would be allowed in by Merlin if the Crown Prince himself was there with her.

This is how they found out Arthur had been barred from seeing Merlin as well.

Merlin heard him shouting from out in the hall, "What do you mean I'm not allowed in?" The guards outside of must have answered at that point, for Arthur then bellowed, "As your prince, I am ordering you to let me inside. Clearly there's been a misunderstanding." Once more, the guards must have said something, though Merlin couldn't hear it. "The king? I will go and talk to the king, and then we'll see how you feel about letting me in. Let's go, Guinevere."

There wasn't any more talking after that.

Merlin, from where he lay on his side on the bed, closed his eyes. Arthur didn't try and get again, at least not that Merlin was aware of. Nor was there any sign of Morgana or Morgause. Merlin wished that he was pleased about that, but that terrible numbness didn't allow it.

No matter what anyone said, Arthur thought, he was a tactical genius. Top notch strategist, really. One of the best. No, scratch that, he was quite possibly the best tactician that Camelot had ever seen.

He had, after all, found a way to get in to see Merlin.

It had been easy. Well. Easy-ish. Perhaps medium difficulty was the most apt description, but in the end, it didn't really matter. Because it had worked. Arthur had managed to lift a guard's uniform and then, waiting until the right moment, had went up the west tower and introduced himself as the replacement for the relief because, hadn't they heard, the usual man had taken ill. If by 'taken ill' he meant 'been sent on a wild goose chase all over the castle', but it was all semantics, really.

"Hello," he said to the guard leaving. The guard gave him an odd look as he handed Arthur the key, and walked out, shutting the door behind him. The sounds of it locking were very oppressive, Arthur thought, and somewhat final. It made him feel pent in and claustrophobic. He couldn't imagine how Merlin felt.

Speaking of Merlin, he had yet to even look at Arthur. The prince found himself at something of a loss. How should he reveal himself? Something dramatic would be fun, but he didn't want to accidently frighten Merlin or –

"You shouldn't be in here, Arthur," Merlin said. His voice was flat, and he didn't break his staring contest with the ceiling.

"How could you have possibly known that it was me?" said Arthur, pulling off the guard helmet. He wasn't surprised, though. He didn't think that anything could surprise him anymore.

"You said hello to Arden when you swapped places," said Merlin, "That's why he gave you that look when he left."

Arthur assumed that Arden was the guard. "How did he know?"

"Because you aren't Geoffery."

"Who's Geoffery?"

"The guard who normally replaces Arden," said Merlin, and. repeated, "You shouldn't be here, Arthur. What if they decide to make me attack you or something?"

Arthur scoffed, forcing levity. "Please. I could take you with my eyes closed."

"Not if I used magic," said Merlin.

"Is it, um," said Arthur, shifting slightly from foot to foot, "Is it working again, then?"

"I don't know, there's always a guard in here," said Merlin, glancing over at Arthur for the first time. The warlock's face was forced to blankness, but Arthur could still see the confusion in the way that Merlin's eyebrows drew together ever so slightly.

"Do you want to give it a go?" Arthur asked. He couldn't deny the curiosity that was stirring within him, but there was more than that. If Merlin could do magic, then that meant that Merlin could protect himself, at least in some capacity, didn't it? "I mean, would you need anything to, or do you, you know, just go for it?"

"Are you asking me to do magic, Arthur?" Merlin asked, moving his gaze back to the ceiling.

"Not necessarily. All I mean is that you said it yourself, you haven't had a chance to see if it's, uh, healing at all. The dra –he said it needed to heal. And, um, it could be a threat, again, like you said," Arthur said, tripping over words and stuttering. He hadn't felt this awkward since he was barely twelve and his father had made him talk at his first council meeting. "And I – well. Yes. Yes, I suppose that I am asking you to do…to do magic."

Merlin let out a sound that was half sigh, half snort. "I don't know if it'll work," he said. He still sounded flat, off. Arthur couldn't stand it, but nor could he blame Merlin.

"I won't make you if you don't want to," said Arthur quickly. Nothing that Merlin didn't want to do.

"It's not that I don't want to," said Merlin, sitting up, tucking his legs beneath him, showing the first sign of interest. "I'm only letting you know that if it works, it certainly won't be anything spectacular."

"That's fine," said Arthur.

Merlin looked around the round room. Arthur watched as his gaze settled on the table that was wedged against one of the room's curving walls. There was a small cup sitting on it, next to a water skin. Arthur had to swallow down the guilt (his fault Merlin was up here, but it was for the best, but hadn't he said that the last time as well?) at the thought that Merlin wasn't even given a decent pitcher, lest he shatter it and use the shards as some sort of weapon. Merlin, meanwhile, was glaring at the cup like it had personally wronged him. He tilted his head to the side a little, and the cup tipped up on one edge.

"Come on," Merlin muttered, but the cup only tipped over and rolled onto the floor. Merlin let out a groan. He looked up at Arthur. "I, uh, it was supposed to come over here."

"You didn't say a spell," said Arthur, "Does it change anything if you –"

"It doesn't matter," said Merlin, "But I did tell you that it probably wouldn't work."

"That's…fine. The dragon did say you'd need time," said Arthur again, letting it drop. He felt he was walking on a very narrow bridge, one that might send him toppling off at any moment. "I – how good are you with magic, normally?"

"Sorry?"

"I'm only wondering," said Arthur, sitting down on the room's solitary chair, "Why you? I understand that for us to be attacked by someone I trust, to have to fight you, would be…" Awful? Scarring? Unimaginable? "…Bad. But how much of a threat would you be – have been, I mean – had they gotten at your magic as well? What would the damage have been?"

"You want to know how powerful I am," said Merlin. Arthur hesitated, and then nodded slightly. Merlin took a deep breath, "Well, there's the whole Dragonlord thing. But I don't think that they knew about that."

"Small mercies," said Arthur. They'd survived one dragon attack. He didn't know how well Camelot would fare against another.

Merlin snorted slightly in agreement. "Then – you should know, I'm not like other people who use magic. I'm not a sorcerer, I didn't learn it. I mean, most –"

"Gaius explained as much," said Arthur. The physician had told Arthur some, but not very much. Then, with all the subtlety of a stampede, Gaius had suggested he ask Merlin about the whole magic business.

Merlin nodded. "Alright," he said, "I've been able to move things – like the cup, only with it actually working, since before I could talk. I've been doing magic before I was walking, before anything else. I've – I'm good at it. I've normally more magic in one hand than many will know in their entire lives. I'm not trying to brag, or anything," Merlin said, "It's the truth."

"Basically," said Arthur, "You're powerful."

Merlin shrugged. He had picked up his Not Looking at Arthur habit once more. "A bit, yeah."

"And it would have been bad had they gotten a hold of your magic."

Arthur wondered if he'd gone too far when Merlin shut his eyes, slumping in on himself as he sat. "It could be bad," he said, "It will be–"

"No," said Arthur, "It would have been. It's not going to happen, though."

"Is that why you had me put up here?" Merlin asked, "Because you're worried I'll try and rip down your castle?"

"You did pull down Morgana's," said Arthur. He wondered if Merlin had even remembered that part on his own yet. "But that didn't even cross my mind. Really. You weren't safe with how things were before. They got at you three different times."

"Gwaine's a bit touchy about that," said Merlin, grimacing slightly, "Seeing as they've gotten the drop on him twice, now. I wouldn't bring it up around him."

"I wouldn't worry about that," said Arthur, "He'd have to talk to me for me to bring it up."

"He isn't talking to you?"

"He's cross with me, he and Lancelot," said Arthur, "Not that I blame them. Anyway. I'm sorry that you're stuck up here, but I couldn't find any other options."

Merlin hummed slightly.

"Merlin," said Arthur, and he finally came to the subject he'd come here to talk over, the subject he'd been avoiding for most of the conversation. "About before. I shouldn't have pushed you like that. You've told us everything that's important, and I – I was out of line."

"A little," Merlin said, "And you're right, you probably shouldn't have. But I can understand why you did."

"It was the dragon," said Arthur, "You told me that I'd killed it, and then…Why did you tell me that, Merlin?"

"You'd been knocked out, and I had him stop fighting. I was going to kill him. Really," said Merlin. Arthur couldn't hold back the snort – because magic or no, the thought of Merlin killing a dragon was as ridiculous as Gwaine riding a unicorn – and a look of indignation flashed across Merlin's face. "I was. But then I couldn't. We're all that's left of the dragons and Dragonlords, Arthur. I couldn't. So I made him leave, and I made it so he wouldn't come back unless I called him. Then you woke up, and – what else could I have told you? Your father –"

"I know," said Arthur, interrupting, "And I don't know what you could have said. I just hate that you lied to me. I hate that you had to. I hate everything about this whole situation, really."

"I do as well," said Merlin. They fell into silence, and then Merlin glanced up. "Now what?"

"Now," said Arthur, "We'll continue searching the woods, find Morgause and Morgana, and get your blood back. We've got a few leads. We're actually leaving in two hours or so to follow up on them. Elyan, Leon, and Lancelot will be staying here, should anything – "

"No, Arthur," said Merlin, cutting him off, "I mean, what now? As in, right now. You aren't going to be let out of here for another five hours when there's a shift change. On a related note, as you just said, you have to leave in about two. And if you demand to be let out, they'll know you were here and you'll get in trouble."

"I," said Arthur, and frowned, pausing. Oh. Right. That. He cleared his throat, and realized he didn't have an answer. So much for being a top notch strategist. "There is a distinct possibility that, in theory, I didn't entirely think this through."

Arthur found he was glad he hadn't had an actual plan when Merlin snorted, and almost smiled.

They didn't have to wait long (maybe an hour) for an opportunity for Arthur to leave to present itself, as there was the sounds of the locks being drawn back and then the door flew open. Elyan and Lancelot – both looking angry and ready for a fight – came barreling in. As soon as they saw Arthur perched in the chair with his feet propped up on the table, exasperation covered both of their faces. A small swell of amusement rose in Merlin's chest. Geoffery the guard came wandering in after them.

"Really, Arthur?" said Elyan, "Really?"

"I forbid any of you to tell anyone of this," said Arthur, imperiously. He made to sweep from the room, but then glanced back at Merlin as if he was going to say something. But then he didn't, and vanished from sight.

"When Geoffery came up to relieve the watch and found out it already had been, we feared the worst," said Lancelot, "However –"

"We have a patrol to do!" Arthur's voice called from down the steps.

Elyan rolled his eyes and walked out. Lancelot made to follow.

"Lancelot," said Merlin. The knight stopped, backing into the room once again.

"Yes, Merlin?"

"If you're going to be angry with Arthur," he said, "Don't use me as some sort of excuse. Be angry with him because you are, not on my behalf."

"Are you saying that you've forgiven him?" the knight said, narrowing his eyes.

"That's between Arthur and I," said Merlin, "And as such is irrelevant. I don't care if you're mad at him, but stop saying that you'll forgive him when I do. It's pressure I don't need. Tell Gwaine the same thing."

Lancelot was quiet for a moment. "Okay, Merlin," he said, "I'll try. Stay safe?"

"You too," Merlin said, and Lancelot nodded before walking out. Geoffery took his stance by the door, and the locks all thudded into their places.

It wasn't long after that, maybe only half of an hour, when the locks began to click open once again. Merlin frowned, and swung his legs over the side of the bed so he was sitting. Geoffery looked equally confused, reaching down to grasp the hilt of his sword. There was the sound of the last one clicking, and then the knocked out code. Geoffery relaxed slightly, and unlocked his lock. The door swung open.

Uther filled the doorway, and Merlin lurched to his feet.

"Bring him," said the king, barely sparing Merlin a glance, and swept away. A moment later, Merlin was being pushed out after him.


	12. Chapter 12

Merlin was brought through the halls. The setting sun in the west gave the white castle walls a red, glowing quality. As they walked across the courtyard, Merlin couldn't help but notice that the platform with the executioner's block was set up. He swallowed the sharp and painful lump that rose in his throat, and tore his eyes from it, staring at the top of his boots. He couldn't help but let his mind wander to his first day in Camelot, to that first execution that he'd witnessed.

Coincidence, surely. If Uther had been going to kill him, he would've done it days ago.

Unless he was just waiting until Arthur left, in order to avoid any dramatic interruptions.

And, gee, did that thought do much to help Merlin's general state of mind. He tried to rationalize that they were already out of the courtyard, so it didn't matter if the block was there, but it didn't help. His thoughts had latched onto the word execution and were refusing to let go. What would his mother do, if he were to be killed? God, his mother, did she even know about any of what was happening? Had anyone told her he was missing, or, on that note, that he'd been found?

Merlin was jolted from his reverie by getting jerked to a halt outside of a door. They were near the dungeons, and the mere thought of damp stones and darkness sent a long shiver down Merlin's spine. Thankfully, they didn't actually enter the cells below, but rather one of the small rooms that lined the halls before there. They were frequently used, Merlin knew, for talking to the accused, for holding small trials.

He didn't know what Uther wanted with him. He did know, though, that it probably wasn't anything good.

"Sit," said Uther. Merlin was pushed down into the chair, and Uther walked to stand behind the desk. Uther nodded at the guards. "Leave us," he said. They did.

Don't panic, Merlin thought as he clenched the armrests of his chair in shaking fingers, do not panic. Arthur wasn't here to pull him out of this like the last time, there wasn't to be a miracle rescue from the undiluted attention of Uther Pendragon. Deep breath, Merlin, he told himself, keep breathing, don't panic, whatever happens, you will not panic.

"Now," Uther said, glancing down at him, "I've some questions for you."

Morgause had not been overly pleased when Morgana returned from her brief interlude in Camelot. She had hurled accusations of carelessness, of hastiness that, if not reined in, could very well destroy their entire plan. "Must I impress on you again that it our fortune thus far in this has been built on luck?" Morgause said.

"Yes," Morgana had replied sullenly, "But –"

Morgause had lectured her for some time longer, finishing with a sigh of, "Well. I suppose what's done is done."

And then Arthur had done the last thing either of the sisters had expected: told Uther. Which had resulted in Merlin being squirreled away in the tower. Morgause and Morgana had discovered as much through the use of a scrying bowl and spell. "What now, then?" Morgana said, "Do we take him by force?"

"No," said Morgause, drumming her long fingernails against the side of the bowl, "No. Making sure that his magic is bound to us will take time, time we will not have if Arthur and his knights are ready for us. We have to wait, now, because of your rash action. We have to wait until they're no longer expecting us."

And wait they did. For days. It made Morgana's skin crawl with the waiting. She wanted this done and over with as soon as it could be. For all that she hated – and she did hate – there was still a part of her that remembered a servant bursting into her rooms with a small Druid boy clutched to his side. She wanted Merlin to suffer, yes, but she wanted it done.

And then, finally, Morgause turned away from the scrying bowl with a startling abruptness. "Arthur has left," she said, "Merlin is out of the tower. Keep the blood close to you, Sister. Soon I will return with our guest."

Morgause swept out of the cave, tossing her hood over her head.

Morgana moved to stand in front the bowl. She gazed down, watching the water that was mirror-smooth. She didn't know how long she stood there, but then there was a shifting sound from behind her, at the entrance of the cave. She smiled tightly, turning to greet her sister, "I didn't expect you back so soon," she said. "I…"

The words died on her lips as she saw that it was not Morgause, but Arthur standing there in front of her.

"Hello, Morgana," he said, drawing his sword, "Where's Morgause?"

He said both of their names like it pained him. That thought made something in Morgana's chest twinge uncomfortably, but she ignored it.

"Camelot, by now," Morgana said, feeling awfully thrown off balance. She hated surprises. "How are you – what are you –"

"You see, I assumed you'd be watching Merlin," said Arthur, "Gaius explained it to me, after my father put Merlin up in the tower. To watch someone with magic – scrying, I think he called it – you need some sort of link, don't you? Even if it's only the smallest of things. And you've got Merlin's blood. So isn't it possible that I didn't tell Merlin everything? Such as, oh, I don't know, that I know where you've been hiding?"

"How very well-thought of you, Arthur," said Morgana, flicking at the vial with her finger, "I'm impressed. A bit surprised as well, I must say."

"You always did underestimate me," Arthur said, and Morgana didn't miss the sadness in his voice.

"And you me," said Morgana, "You're too late, Arthur. We've already begun. Soon, Morgause will return here with him. Then, we'll take his magic for our own. There's nothing you can do but watch as my sister and I use your Merlin to rip your kingdom to the ground."

"Merlin will never harm Camelot," said Arthur, "Not as long as I'm around."

"You've no idea," Morgana said, tilting her head slightly to the side, "You've no idea the power you have at your hand, do you? Tell me, Arthur, have you ever heard the prophecies the Druids speak of? Have you ever heard of the one called Emrys?"

Arthur didn't answer, and Morgana had to fight down a bubbling laugh. "No," she said, "No, of course you haven't. Not with Uther around. I didn't hear of Emrys until I went with Morgause. Shall I enlighten you, oh brother of mine? Emrys is the most powerful sorcerer to ever walk the land. Who will ever walk the land. The one who is going to return magic to Camelot. And then I find out – it's Merlin. The servant. The peasant. Merlin, right under my nose, your nose, Uther's nose. Merlin the liar. But he's too afraid of his own powers to do anything, too worried of what it will mean. He isn't completely Emrys, not yet."

"Morgana," Arthur said, and then stopped, looking confused. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I want you to understand exactly how deeply in trouble you are right now," she said, and let the vial of Merlin's blood dangle from her hand, the torchlight reflecting off of it, making it shimmer in the dark of the cave, "I want you to know that as long as this is in my hand, there is nothing you can do to save your beloved Camelot. As I said, Merlin has yet to fully become Emrys. And now, he never will."

"If Merlin's as powerful as you're saying," said Arthur, slowly, "Then you have to see the danger you've set yourself in, Morgana. You are riding on a whirlwind, and once you lose your control, you're going to have to reap the consequences."

"Then I guess it's a good thing that I don't plan on letting go of my control, isn't it?" she said, "I –"

The cold steel of a dagger was suddenly pressed against her throat. She turned her head enough to see that it was Guinevere's Lancelot from all those years ago. "Don't try and move," he hissed, "For I'm looking for reasons to slit your throat."

"You are not a very nice person, did you know?" said a third voice, and one of Arthur's other petty little knights melted out of the shadows, hand outstretched, "Hi, I'm Gwaine. We haven't been formally introduced. You're the one who locked me in a closet. I'm the one who you're going to hand that blood to now, understand?"

"Really, Morgana," said Arthur, and she flicked her eyes over to her half-brother as another knight joined the party, sword out and at the ready, "Did you honestly think that I was going to come alone?"

"I'm told you're not actually a citizen of Camelot," said Uther, "That you're from a small village outside of our border. Ealdor, I believe."

"Yes," said Merlin.

"I've heard of it, actually," he said, "I once was forced to chase a dangerous sorcerer there, the Dragonlord Balinor. Do you know of him?"

"Not before Prince Arthur and I went searching, when the dragon attacked," said Merlin. After all, it wasn't a lie. "You must have been there before I was born."

Uther hummed. "I digress. The point is, you were born under the rule of Cenred. Correct?"

"I, um, I believe he took the throne sometime after," said Merlin, "We were so far from anything that power transfers didn't affect us much."

"And yet, whenever we found ourselves under siege from Cenred's armies, you mysteriously vanish," said Uther, as if Merlin hadn't said anything, "More than once I've heard Arthur yelling at you over it. Where do you go, I wonder? Would you not say that this is suspicious behavior?"

"Er," said Merlin, "I –"

"Then there is the matter of your most recent disappearance. Tell me, Merlin, how is it that you went from being held for ransom by simple outlaws to the possession of the witches?"

"I –"

"Furthermore, you were gone from the city for some weeks before Arthur received a ransom demand. And suddenly you're found with known traitors to the crown. Is this not also suspicious? And isn't it convenient to have this…this enchantment excuse."

"My Lord, I –"

"Answer me!" Uther thundered, "How long have you been in league with the enemies of Camelot?"

Merlin wondered if Uther knew how close he was from rooting out not a spy, as he apparently believed, but a sorcerer. His throat went a little dry as he tried to summon up words, something, anything, his earlier mantra of you will not panic lost in a whirlwind of scrambling thoughts and worry. Merlin was spared trying to answer by the door creaking open, and Leon striding in, Elyan shadowing him. Gaius was just behind the knights. Merlin made a mental note to never, ever have an attitude with Gaius again. "My Lord," said Gaius, stepping forward, "May I inquire as to what Merlin is doing here?"

"You may not," said Uther, "And you will all leave us."

"Begging your pardon, Sire, but if I may," said Leon, "Leaving you alone with him could be dangerous to you."

"You are wrong for two reasons," said Uther, "One, you imply I would be unable to defend myself against him. Two, you are choosing to believe the idea that the witches do seek to control him, and that he's not working on his own free will."

"Sire –"

"It does not fit, their trying to control him," Uther snapped, looking away from Merlin, "They could maybe, maybe succeed in poisoning Arthur, but even then – there is something missing. Something that he," and the king pointed at Merlin, "He will tell me."

"I…" Gaius broke off in a yawn. A moment later, Uther was stifling a yawn himself. Merlin could only watch as the two knights, the physician, and the king all slumped away into sleep. He flew to his feet as Gaius, Leon, and Elyan hit the floor, as Uther crashed face first into the desk in front of him.

"Hello, Merlin," said a voice from behind him.

Merlin closed his eyes for a moment, forcing a deep breath, before turning. "Morgause," he said, "Why did you make them fall asleep like that?"

"Because, it will be perfect," she said, "It's time to go, Merlin. King Uther suspects you of treachery. He and the others will wake to find you gone, just as the questions were getting difficult to answer. Morgana and I will take your powers for our own purposes, and then you will raze Camelot to the ground."

Merlin clenched his hands into fists.

"Now," said Morgause, "If you would follow me, we have work to do."

Merlin did. He tried to tell himself it was because he wanted to, because he wanted to keep her away from his defenseless friends. He knew, however, that it was probably not because either of those reasons.

The fight was harsh, but Morgana was sure that she could win.

Arthur had three of his knights with him – Gwaine, Lancelot, and a large one who's name Morgana didn't know. She sent her magic flying, knocking three of the knights backwards and Arthur flying off to the side. She raised her hand, staring down at the nameless knight who had landed sprawled at her feet.

Gwaine came barreling out of nowhere, slamming into her just before she could deal the final, fatal stroke to the large knight. Morgana flew one way. Merlin's blood went the other.

Arthur leaped forward, and caught the glittering vial just before it smashed to the ground.

Merlin stopped in the courtyard, just behind Morgause. She was staring thoughtfully at the executioner's block. "This is what was waiting for you," she said, "Not today, of course. Maybe not tomorrow, either. But, eventually, Arthur would tire of the novelty of a kept sorcerer, powerful though you may be. One day, he would have led you out to here. Would have watched you die."

Merlin, even though he knew better, said, "Would have?"

"Yes, would have," said Morgause, and turned, reaching out for him, "But you're going to destroy him first."

A strange buzzing popped free in Merlin's chest, and he froze. His heart hammered, and he swallowed thickly. The buzzing spread down into his stomach, into his arms, filling his legs. It made his head feel light as a feather and his vision swim for a moment. But beyond all of that, it made a smile spread across his face, and he flexed his fist. Whatever crazed expression shot across his face made Morgause stop, and step backwards away from him.

In the end, Gaius had been wrong about his magic healing him. The dragon had been wrong about his magic gathering its strength. In reality, Merlin's magic had fled deep within him, hiding from Morgause and Morgana's manipulation, staying buried. Staying safe.

Merlin didn't know why his magic had returned to him, or how, only that it had (Later they would discover that his magic flooded back at the exact moment Arthur caught the vial of his blood as it spun through the air). He felt like himself again, for the first time in weeks. The helplessness was gone. The uncertainty had vanished. The magic – his magic – pumped through his veins, and Merlin almost threw his head back and crowed with laughter. He didn't, though. There were slightly more pressing matters to attend to at the moment.

Straightening his shoulders, he looked up at Morgause. His magic, tired of being pent in, was spilling out in all directions. Storm clouds gathered in the sky. He didn't need a mirror to know that his eyes were golden. Morgause stumbled back a step. She looked scared. Merlin felt no happiness over that, but nor did he feel any pity.

"You," said Merlin, clenching one hand into a fist, "I'm done having to worry about you, about what you're planning, what you're doing. You're done."

The lightening knifed downwards and, like Nimueh before her, Morgause was reduced to little more than an echoing scream and a pile of ashes drifting on the wind. Merlin wondered if he was supposed to feel triumphant, relieved. He wondered if he was supposed to stand on his field of victory, straight backed and proud.

But as the rain began to fall, exploding out of the clouds and flying down, all Merlin felt was tired.

Morgana couldn't move. Her blood thundered through her veins, and she felt like she was falling, falling, twirling away from the earth and everything that was solid. "Morgause," she whispered, "Sister, no."

An echoing cavern, empty and terrible, had opened in the pit of her stomach. She could feel it, straight down into her soul. Morgause was dead. She was dead, gone, and Morgana was alone, alone, and it was all Merlin and Arthur's fault, yes, they had to be punished, they had to be –

"Morgana," Arthur was saying, "Morgana, listen, you don't have to –"

"No!" she screamed, and her eyes burned golden.

The vial, with an unexpected jerk that left Arthur grasping at empty air, flew across the cavern and back into Morgana's hand. She shrieked an incantation that sent Arthur and his knights flying to the ground again. As soon as the glass hit her palm, she began to hiss in the language of the Old Religion, the words sailing from her tongue with ease. "Beweallan Merlin wældreór."

"Morgana, stop," Arthur yelled from the other side of the cave, scrambling to his feet, "Whatever it is you're doing, don't, stop!"

"Ræran ærgewinn innan hine," she hissed, and the blood within the vial began to pulse with a sickly, scarlet light, a sourceless breeze sweeping through the cave. "Déaþcwalu."

"Morgana!" Arthur roared.

"Déaþcwalu," she repeated, a manic laugh, manic sob working through her throat, "Déaþcwalu! Déaþ –"

She didn't make it through the third repetition. The sword of Sir Lancelot silenced her. Morgana looked down at the blade protruding from her stomach. The small vial, still pulsing, fell from her hand and clinked against the stones. "Oh," she whispered. She couldn't even feel the blade. She glanced up to find Arthur, frozen and expressionless, watching her from where he stood. She looked down again at where her own blood was staining her dress red. "Oh," she said again, and fell to the floor, dark hair fanning out around her.

Merlin, exhausted and swaying though he was, now had something of a problem on his hands. The sleeping spell that Morgause had draped over the castle was slipping away. Merlin latched onto it, holding it in place while he tried to think of his next move. Because if they were to wake, right now, it would be to find Merlin standing in the courtyard in a rather abrupt deluge in front of a scorch mark. And that chopping block was still much to close for comfort…

Merlin staggered back into the small questioning room where the four men were slumped over in slumber. Making a snap decision, he dragged the king to just outside the door, right next to where the scorch mark formerly known as Morgause sat. Then Merlin drew Uther's sword and shoved the hilt into his hand. Then, the warlock stood back and waited, letting the slumber spell slip away through his fingers. Uther's eyes shot open.

"What happened?" Uther said, rising to his feet and looking around wildly.

Merlin cocked his head curiously, blinking, wide-eyed, the perfect picture of slightly terrified innocence. "You don't remember, my Lord?" he said, "You just struck down Morgause."

Uther looked down at the sword in his hand, then at Merlin.

"She put up a fight, my Lord," said Merlin, raising his voice to be heard above the rain, "You came out here, and you, um, you stopped her from taking me again. When you, uh, when you stabbed her, she burst into flames. She sort of exploded, and it must've knocked you out. It knocked me back as well, and I hurt myself. If you look to your feet, my Lord, you can see where she stood as it happened. I'd be dead if you hadn't gotten her when you did."

Uther narrowed his eyes at Merlin. For a moment, he looked so much like Arthur that Merlin almost fell over.

Leon, Elyan, and Gaius came bursting outside just then, all looking rather crazed and more than a little confused. They looked from Merlin, wobbling slightly, to Uther, sword in hand, ashes at his feet. "Sire?" said Leon, finding his voice first out of the three.

"I," said Uther, "I have slain the witch Morgause."

Gaius instantly fixed Merlin with a glare that was seven parts suspicion and three parts exasperation. Merlin would have smiled, but it seemed that the day had caught up with him, and all he could manage was a one-shouldered shrug and a sigh. Gaius's eyebrow shot up. Merlin just shrugged again. There was a chill seeping through him, a cold that was clammy and nipping and seemed to be coming from somewhere in his chest, and not actually from the rain.

Merlin opened his mouth to say something, though he wasn't overly sure what. Because that was when the pain hit. Later, he wouldn't be able to describe it. Later, he'd barely even to remember it. But here, now, it was all that he knew. It was like his bones were trying to claw their way through his skin, crawling and writhing. He was on the ground without remembering getting there. Someone reached out to touch his shoulder, and it was like a brand pressed into his skin, burning and searing and awful. Distantly, he could hear someone screaming. Even more distantly, he realized that it was himself.

It was the last thing Merlin knew before he passed out.


	13. Chapter 13

The ride back from the caves seemed to take longer than the ride there. Arthur rode in the front, the vial of Merlin's blood dangling around his neck, clinking against his armor from time to time. Lancelot was behind him, alternating from staring down at his gloved hands and the back of Arthur's head. Percival and Gwaine brought up the rear, riding side by side. Percival had knocked his head during the fighting, and he was too heavy to ride double with someone. He kept tipping off to the left of his saddle, though, and Gwaine had taken to pushing him back upright.

No one said anything. Gwaine sure as hell wasn't going to be the first. After all, what was there to say? Not much. What could he even lead with?

Hey, Arthur, thank God that Lancelot skewered your sister like that. And what was with that spell she was casting? That didn't sound very good, did it? I bet everything's alright though, you know, since everything's been going in our favor as of late anyway. Right? Arthur? Right? And where's the other one, the blonder one, where's she gotten off to? Morgana did say something about her heading to Camelot, didn't she? D'you think she's going to be a problem, Arthur? Do you? Hey, wait, what are we going to do when we get back, are you going to tell your father what's been happening?

Gwaine shook his head, scoffing silently, and poked Percival back into sitting straight. The large knight blinked blearily at him and gave him a vague smile.

So it was that they rode into the courtyard in near silence. Gwaine had to suppress the shiver that worked its way up his spine at the deserted area. It was hardly the busiest time of the evening, but usually there was someone. Now, though, the courtyard was deserted. Gwaine, again, thought it best not to comment, and dismounted his own horse before tugging Percival off of his. Lancelot and Arthur followed suit.

"I'll go talk to Gaius and get Percival looked at," said Arthur, taking the knight away from where he was listing against Gwaine, "Lancelot, why don't…"

He trailed off, looking at the knight who had killed his sister not so long before. Lancelot looked similarly out of beat with the situation, and with a sigh Gwaine decided it was best for those two to be in opposite parts of the castle. "Lancelot, go and tell Merlin all's right with the world," said Gwaine, "I'll take care of the horses. Yes?"

Arthur cleared his throat slightly, and began to teeter off in the direction of Gaius's chambers with Percival. "Yes, what he said," said the prince.

Lancelot half walked, half jogged away from the courtyard. One of the horses snuffled at Gwaine's hair, and he patted its nose as he gathered the reins of all four mounts, and said, "Thank God this all over, mate. I need a drink."

Gwaine began peeling off tack from the horses. He didn't mind doing the task. The easy motions set his somewhat frayed nerves at ease. The stables were quiet, but not the tense sort of quiet that had surrounded them during the ride. It was the quiet of nickering horses and snapping, horsey tails. The only other people there, save for Gwaine, were two stable boys who were talking in hushed tones.

"So the King killed the witch," the taller one was saying, "And the knights and the physician and the servant are all in the courtyard, and the servant just tips over, he does. Oh, what's his name – Marvin? Matthew? Anyway, then –"

"Wait, wait," Gwaine said, moving over by the stable boys, leaving the horses, "What happened to who when King Uther did what now?"

Lancelot chose that moment to burst into the stables, more than a little wild-eyed, and announce, "Merlin isn't in the tower."

"Aye, that's the one," said the tallest stable boy, "Merlin, the prince's manservant. After the king killed the witch, he had some sort of fit. Fell to the ground, yelling and twitching and –"

Gwaine didn't hear the rest of what he said. He was already out the door, sprinting away in the direction that Arthur had gone. Lancelot was close on his heels. All Gwaine could think about was that last moment when Morgana cast the spell. And as they run, he couldn't stop the thought from rearing up in his mind.

Please, do not let us have been too late.

" – not know, Guinevere, all we can do is wait," Gaius was saying as Arthur staggered in the door, the old man facing away. Gwen was sitting next to the patient's bed, dapping a cloth against the face of whoever was in the bed. Between she and Gaius, Arthur couldn't make out who it was. He had a terrible, sneaking suspicion of who lay there, but he refused to dwell on it for too long.

Gwen noticed Arthur, and swung to her feet, turning so that she was still blocking the patient. "Arthur," she said, "You're back."

Gaius turned. "Sire," he said, "Sir Percival."

Arthur deposited Percival on one of the chairs by the table.

"What happened?" Gaius asked, moving towards them. Gwen shifted slightly to the right, and Arthur saw the face of the patient.

"Merlin," he said, moving forward. Merlin's eyes were closed, but Arthur could see how they were moving rapidly beneath the lids. His hands were clenching and unclenching in the thin blanket that covered him. The vial of Merlin's blood was cold against his palm. He could only think of Morgana's voice hissing out spells, just before Lancelot had – just before. Arthur stood next to Guinevere, who slid her hand into his free one. "Is he –"

"I drugged him, Sire," said Gaius, looking every one of his considerable amount of years, "I couldn't bear to – he was in such pain."

Arthur ignored him, reaching out to grasp Merlin's shoulder, "Merlin, wake up," he said, shaking him lightly, "I need you to wake up."

"I don't think you heard me," said Gaius, "He won't be waking up for a long while. But the blood, Sire, did you –"

Except for then Merlin was blinking awake, jerking slightly. He blinked at Arthur, blearily, as if not sure what he was seeing.

"You're alright, Merlin," said Arthur, "Sit up and I'll catch you up."

"I really think that he should be lying down," said Gaius. Gwen remained silent, eyes twitching from Gaius to Arthur to Percival, who was half asleep at the table.

Merlin, however, pushed himself up, still looking muddled.

"See? He's alright," said Arthur, "Merlin, I need you to –"

"Arthur!" Gaius suddenly barked, harsher than Arthur could ever remember the old man sounding, "Put the blood down!"

Arthur frowned, confused, and looked from the physician to the vial to Merlin struggling to sit up, and back down to the vial again. Gwaine realized the problem the exact moment the prince did, and, with a sickening jolt, realized that the prince had been hurling around his offhanded orders while holding Merlin's blood. Merlin was doing what Arthur said, but it was because of the enchantment.

"Oh, Arthur," Gwen whispered.

"Merlin, hold out your –" Arthur stopped, and then rephrased, after swallowing roughly against the guilt that was thick in his throat, "Can you hold out your hand?"

Merlin did, and Arthur dropped the vial into it. Merlin shuddered as he slowly closed his fingers around it, shoulders slumping slightly.

"It's done," Arthur said, "Merlin, it's done. You're safe. Camelot's safe. We're – it's done."

Merlin nodded, still staring at his closed palm.

"How do you feel?" Gaius said, after a moment, moving to place a hand on Merlin's shoulder.

"Tired," Merlin answered, "A bit sore."

"You should sleep more, my boy," the physician said.

Merlin looked down. Gwaine followed his gaze to the vial. "What do we do with that, then?" he asked.

"For the time being, I think it's best that Merlin holds onto it," said Gaius.

With the confusion of the immensely tired, Merlin blinked slowly and said, "But then how'm I supposed to sleep?"

"Put it around your neck," Arthur said.

Merlin did, and then lay back down. Gaius moved away to take a look at Percival. Arthur was just starting to think that maybe, maybe things could calm down so that he could start to process the day, to catch Gaius and Guinevere up on what was happening, so that he could be caught up on what was happening, when Gwaine and Lancelot came barreling into the room, both wild-eyed and panicked.

Apparently, calming down could wait.

They let several days pass. Things settled. Merlin slept, but during his waking hours there was something more to him than there had been in recent weeks. But, then, the issue could no longer be ignored.

They still needed to figure out what to do with the vial of blood.

"Why don't we just smash it?" asked Percival. All of the knights, Arthur, Gwen, Gaius, and Arthur were crammed into Gaius's chambers. They were arranged in something resembling a circle.

"Tried," said Merlin.

"And?"

Gwaine looked over at a broken shelf, rubbed his sore back, and said, "It didn't end well. It sort of lit off Merlin's magic –"

" – And Gwaine got tossed into a wall," finished Merlin, sheepishly. "I am sorry about that."

"I know."

"We could burn it," said Elyan.

"No, too risky," Gaius said, "I'm worried it would hurt Merlin."

"Couldn't he just hold onto it?" Gwen asked.

Arthur was shaking his head before she'd finished the question. "No," he said, "No, someday, somehow, something would happen. We need a permanent solution."

"We could lock it in the vaults," said Leon.

"Yes," said Lancelot, "Because no one ever breaks into the vaults."

"Sarcasm, Lancelot," said Elyan, "That's new."

"What if we build a vault?" suggested Percival, "A new one, a, er, better protected one."

"Hell," said Gwaine, "Why don't we just weight it down and toss it in a lake while we're at it?"

"Be serious, Gwaine," said Arthur, "If you don't have an actual suggestion, please, do us all a favor and keep quiet."

"Makes as much sense as what you lot are coming up with –"

Merlin, though, sat up a bit straighter. Toss it in a lake. Toss it in a lake. "That's brilliant," he said.

They all looked over at him. "What is?" said Arthur.

"Gwaine's lake thing," said Merlin, standing and leaving, "I need a horse, I – why didn't I think of it? The lake."

They sat in stunned silence as the warlock left. "Er," said Gwaine, "I would like to point out that I am in no way responsible if Merlin steals a horse and drowns."

His words, ridiculous though they were, were enough to spur the others into chasing after Merlin.

"He's not actually going to drop it in the water, is he?" Lancelot said.

He, Gwaine, and Arthur were lying on their stomachs beneath a bush, watching as Merlin stood on the edge of the lake. They had decided just the three of them would go, versus the whole group. That way it would be easier to tail Merlin through the woods without the warlock knowing. Arthur, though, couldn't shake the feeling that he had been to this particular lake before.

"I assumed there'd be some sort of…of magic or something involved," Lancelot continued.

"If he drops it in the water, I'm throwing him in after it," Arthur growled.

"Arthur," said Gwaine.

"What?" Arthur answered, "I'll make sure he doesn't drown."

"That's right," said Gwaine, lightly, "Because I'll be throwing you in after him."

Lancelot snorted slightly. Arthur had to fight down a grin of his own. Not only were the two knights speaking to him, they were even starting to joke again. Arthur didn't know if they were still angry, and a small part of him hoped that they were. After all, Arthur was still angry with himself. And there was the part where Lancelot had killed his sister.

"But, seriously," said Lancelot, "Does anyone have any idea what's happening?"

"Shh," said Gwaine, "He's doing something."

Merlin had pulled off his boots and rolled up his pants, wading into the water until he was submerged to his knees. He pulled the chain off from around his neck, and then, quietly, so quietly Arthur almost couldn't hear him from where he was, called out, "Freya?"

There wasn't an answer. Arthur realized that he was holding his breath.

Merlin took a step further into the water. "Freya?" he said again, "Freya, are you here?"

Arthur blinked. His eyes were closed for less than a moment, but when he opened them there was a girl in a red dress standing in the water not far from Merlin. She said something, and Merlin answered, and then she reached up to touch his cheek with her fingertips.

"…We should go," said Lancelot, "We should – this isn't for us to see. We should go."

"We should," agreed Gwaine. None of them moved. The lady said something else, waving her hand towards the shore. Merlin laughed, the sound simple and delighted, drifting out over the still water. Arthur hadn't realized how much he had missed the sound, not until that moment.

As they watched , Merlin held up a hand, the vial and the chain cupped in it. She frowned, reaching up to brush his face again, fussing over Merlin. With a small smile, she took the vial out of Merlin's hand. They exchanged a few more words, and then, right before all of their eyes, she sank down beneath the water, leaving barely a ripple in her wake. Merlin stood still for a moment, and then walked out of the water. He sat on the ground, heavily, and pulled his boots back on. Then, he turned to face straight towards Arthur and the knights, and called, "I know you're there. You might as well come out."

Arthur had a childish moment of wanting to stay down and hidden, just because. But Gwaine was already on his feet and bounding out of the bush. Lancelot, giving Arthur an almost wry look, followed, so the prince was given no choice but to follow.

"Merlin," Gwaine said, "Who was that?"

"Freya," said Merlin, simply.

"Is she magic?" Lancelot asked.

"Yes."

"And?" said Gwaine, waggling his eyebrows.

"And," said Merlin, "She'll keep that safe."

"Are you sure?" Arthur asked.

"She'll keep it safe," said Merlin.

"But –"

"Believe me," said Merlin, and his voice booked no room for argument, "She will keep it safe."

None of them pressed the matter any further.

They returned to Camelot. Days went by. Things began to sink back down into normality. Merlin still had yet to return to his duties as Arthur's manservant, and Arthur didn't bring it up. They saw very little of each other. Arthur, though he'd never admit it, was anxious over talking with Merlin, now that all was said and done. So it was that one day, Arthur was in his chambers, sitting and filling out reports, when the door creaked open. He looked up to find Merlin standing awkwardly, head stuck around the doorway.

"Arthur," said Merlin, "I need to say something."

Arthur laid down his quill. In the back of his mind, he began to prepare himself for whatever Merlin had to say to him. He got ready to accept the fact that Merlin was going to go home to Ealdor or off to find Druids. He started to wonder if he should send Lancelot or Gwaine away with him, or both. What supplies he could spare to send with his servant. He waited for Merlin to say any of these things.

Merlin didn't say any of that. Instead, he shut the door and sat down across from the prince. "I have magic," he said.

Arthur waited for Merlin to continue. The servant, however, seemed to have said all that he was going to. So, Arthur, arching an eyebrow, said, "Yes. And?"

"And," said Merlin, "I wanted – had wanted to be the one to tell you. I used to think that's how I'd like it to happen, how you'd find out. From me. Not second hand, or from someone else. Not like how you actually did, but from me."

"I would have preferred that too," Arthur said.

"It isn't that I didn't trust you," Merlin said. He had fixed his eyes on the window just behind Arthur's head, and was fidgeting slightly in the chair, pulling at the ends of his shirt sleeves. "Maybe that was it at first, but things kept – it all sort of got bigger, and it never seemed like the right time. I was going to tell you, but –"

"I swear to God, if you're going to apologize I may slap you."

"No, you won't."

Arthur stared back at Merlin for a moment, and said, "No. I won't."

"Look, I'm going to be honest," Merlin said, "I don't blame you for what's happened. Really, I don't. But even though I understand why you sent me away, it still hurts. I'd imagined what it would be like, when everyone found out. And I'll admit, that was one of the worse ones."

"I only wanted to –"

"I know what you wanted to do," said Merlin, "But I've been in Camelot for years and I'd managed to survive. You should have trusted me. And maybe if I had trusted you first, things would have been different. If I hadn't lied for so long. I guess, um. I guess I just have a question."

Arthur nodded.

"Can we call it even?"

"No," said Arthur.

Merlin's eyes got a bit wider, and he looked stricken. "Oh," he said, blinking quickly.

"I don't think that you understand," said Arthur, "I can't call it even because this isn't even. You lied because it would have meant death if you didn't. I betrayed your trust, and I ruined everything. We can't call this even because what I did, what I caused, is worse than any lie you may have told. Even the dragon."

"Arthur," said Merlin, quietly. "You don't know the sort of things I've done. You don't know all that you're forgiving me for."

"Well, then," said Arthur, leaning back slightly, "I suppose you better get talking, so that we can…I don't know, so we can start to figure this mess out. Unless you don't want to, of course, I'm not forcing you into anything."

Merlin, however, simply took a moment of quiet. Then, he started to talk, to tell Arthur the other side of a story the prince had thought he'd known. Arthur, for his part, sat and listened and thought.

It would take time to repair the damage. Time for Arthur to let go of his guilt and time for Merlin to come to terms with the fact that Arthur knew everything. Some days would be better than others, as days tend to go. Eventually, they would move past this.

Eventually.


End file.
